He was almost clear. He had his girl in his arms and was prepared to leave the Hellmouth for good. Then he and Drusilla could go back to happily living their unlives, the way it had been before. But something made him look back, curiosity he'd wager. He wanted to see who was winning, the Slayer or his former poofter of sire.

Damn, he thought as he saw Angelus advancing on the felled and unarmed Slayer. "God, he's gonna kill her," he muttered. It wasn't his problem, he reckoned as he shrugged and continued on. He ventured only a few steps more, then paused, looking back again. For some reason, the thought of Angelus taking out the slayer really bothered him. He told himself it was because he'd wanted that honor for himself. That if it wasn't going to be him to do her, well, at least it sure as hell wasn't going to be that poof.

"Oh balls," he cursed.

His decision was made, but he wasn't happy with it. He found a safe and shady place to lay down Drusilla and turned back, returning just in time to hear Angelus taunting the Slayer.

"No weapons, no friends, what's left?" Angelus said, casually brandishing his sword.

God he's a real son of a bitch, Spike thought, rolling his eyes. He pumped himself up and stepped into the fray.

"Me," he said, shocking both parties.

Angelus turned a confused look his way and Spike took the opportunity to land a left hook to the older vampire's jaw. The blow sent Angelus reeling. Spike didn't allow him any time to recover before punching him again. He bent to retrieve the sword the other vampire dropped. He could finish this now, cut his head off, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But the wanker had already activated that stupid Acathla statue and it needed Angelus' blood to close. So Spike decided to play a new game - he called it kick the sire - and he played it all the way to the front of the statue.

He raised his sword to the bloodied vampire kneeling before him., "Time to say goodnight, peaches," he told him. But before Spike could bring the sword down, the Slayer interrupted.

"Spike, no!" she screamed.

His jaw tensed in irritation, his hands gripping the hilt of the sword, itching to plunge it into the heart of the son of a bitch that had been the bane of his existence for so long. Here he was with the golden opportunity to end the bastard, send him to hell where he belonged. It would be so easy, but he didn't do it, instead he lowered the sword and turned an angry glare toward the Slayer
"Bloody hell," he seethed, "I should've known you wouldn't be able to follow through and let the ponce die. But you know?" Spike paused dramatically. "I had a bit more faith in you. Thought you were tougher than that, but you're—"

"I need to be the one to do it," she interrupted. Spike's eyebrow cocked in surprise. "I have to be."

Brow furrowed, Spike looked the girl over with curiosity. He took a moment before nodding and handing the sword over to her. He took a step back and watched as the Slayer did her thing. He had to give her credit; she did have brass, this one.

Once it was done, with the vortex closed and Angelus dead, the Slayer just stood there, staring at the now dormant statue. She looked a bit stony herself.
Spike kept his mouth shut for a long moment. He was uncomfortable and hated not knowing what to do. Why should I do anything? I've done my part. The world's saved, Angelus is dead. Time to go.

"Well that was loads of fun 'n all, and I'd love to stick around, but I think it's time me and my lady be off so—" His words cut off as a wrenching pain shot through his entire being. It drew from him a blood-curdling howl and brought him to his knees.

The sound brought Buffy out of her torpor. She turned to see what had happen and saw Spike down on his knees, bent over in apparent agony, but the Slayer had no clue why.

"Spike?" she called, confused, and not just a little freaked out. She slowly crept toward him.

"Spike?" she repeated. "What's happening?"

Suddenly, the vampire went slack, slumped forward as if from exhaustion.

"Are you okay?"

He raised his head to look at her, and tears shone in his eyes. Something else was there as well, some sort of shift had occurred inside the vampire, of that, Buffy was certain.

"Where am I?" he asked, his usual cockney accent sounding much more refined. "Who are you? What's happened? What've you done to me?" He became more panicky with every question.

"Hey, take it easy." Buffy tried to coax him, putting up her hands in a non- threatening manner.

Spike got to his feet. "I must get out of here. Mother must be terribly worried I—" He stopped as his memories began to flood back into his mind. The parade of faces turned into corpses, tortured and killed by his own hand. He saw all the people who had made fun of his poetry, the man who had said he'd rather have a railroad spike shoved through his head rather than listen to it. And that's exactly what Spike had done.

"God," he muttered, horrified. He dropped back down to his knees, "Oh dear god, no!"

Buffy saw the horror on his face and she remembered the time when Angel had told her about his own ensoulment. How when the gypsy first cursed him, he had experienced a moment of amnesia before the memory of what he'd done since becoming a vampire hit him. But when it did, it was like a ton of bricks, the weight of the horrible atrocities he had committed crushing him. And that, she realized, was what was happening to Spike now.

Now that he had his soul.

Spike had his head in his hands, rocking back and forth whispering a horrified litany of "No, no, god, please no, what have I done?"

"Hey," Buffy tried to soothe as she dropped to her knees in front of him. She tried pulling down his hands from his face. "Hey, it's okay, it's going to be okay."
Finally, she got his hands away from his face and saw his already startling blue eyes made even brighter by the tears in them. Buffy put a hand on his cheek, putting on what she hoped was reassuring smile.

"It'll be okay," she said again.

Spike had been staring as though looking through her, and Buffy felt a wave of relief when his eyes finally seemed to focus. Yet when Spike realised who the girl in front of him was, his face crumpled. He touched her cheek.

"What did I do to you?" he murmured, but he was speaking to himself not Buffy. "You poor girl, I'm sorry" Spike squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling down his face. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed as he bowed forward, his head going down to rest on Buffy's legs. "Can you forgive me? I know I don't deserve it, but I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry."

"Shh..." Buffy cooed, rubbing his head in her lap. "It's okay. I forgive you."

How could she not? She had told herself for weeks over and over again that Angelus wasn't Angel. That the soulless creature was not the man she had loved.
So, going by that logic, the man repenting before her now was not the same as the one that had tormented her in the past.

Spike raised his head to her, a faint sliver of hope in his eyes. "Really?"

Buffy smiled at him and nodded. "Yes, really. I forgive you."

"Thank you," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "Oh thank you." He leaned forward and embraced her.

Buffy patted him on the back, a bit awkwardly. "It's nothing, really."

Spike pulled back from her, an earnest expression on his face. "Oh, but it is, you have no idea." He shook his head, becoming overwhelmed with tears.

"Hey there, it really is okay." Buffy tried to comfort him, but felt helpless. "Is there anything I can do?"

Spike moved his head back and forth; there was nothing she could do, but then a thought occurred to him and he looked at her intently. "Perhaps there is something..."

"Of course," Buffy agreed without a thought. "What do you need?"

"Kill me," he implored desperately. "Please, kill me."

Buffy's eyes widened in horror at the request, "No!" she exclaimed, "I am not going to kill you!"

Spike nodded. "I understand. Why should you do me any favours? Don't worry about it." With that the man pulled himself to his feet, and made for the garden, toward the deadly sunlight.

Buffy was stunned for a moment by his quick action, but she soon shook herself and, unfortunately for Spike, she was able to catch up to him before any damage was done. She tackled him to the ground, and knocked him out to keep him from trying something like that again. But this was only a temporary solution and the Slayer knew that she was going to have to find a long-term one to keep the vampire from hurting himself.

She searched the mansion and found a set of chains in one of the bedrooms, Drusilla's, she deduced from the menagerie of china dolls. The chains had been by the bed and Buffy thought it best not to think about what their purpose had been.

Buffy hauled the chains back to the still unconscious Spike and shackled him to the wall.

She breathed a sigh of relief at having one problem solved. Little did she know that Spike would be the least of her worries.

Buffy was just about to sit down and to try relax and come up with a plan for dealing with the vamp when an earth shattering cry rent the air. She ran toward the sound without hesitation.

The Slayer found the woman standing by the fountain, her back towards her, but Buffy recognized the old fashion dress and jet black hair.

"Drusilla?" she called out tentatively.

The woman turned slowly around, her eyes cast down on her palms.
"They're filthy," she whispered. "So much blood. I can't get it off." She held out her hands for Buffy to see. There was indeed blood there, but not from the crimes of her past. It was her own from having scrubbed them too hard, they were red and raw.

"Oh god," Buffy said, aghast. Drusilla, too, had gotten her soul back.

"Must, must get it off!" she fretted, turning back to the fountain. "Can't be dirty, it's bad to get dirty. Mummy will be so angry, 'cleanliness is next to godliness' she always says, only wicked girls allow their hands to be soiled. Must get clean, must wash away the blood." She was scrubbing furiously, picking up a stone and using it on her hands.

Buffy ran over and grabbed Drusilla's hands.

"It's enough!" she assured. "They're clean. It's okay."

Drusilla looked up into Buffy's face.

"I know you," she said. "I killed your friend, I did." She looked back to her hands. "Her blood is here, too. Do you see it?"

Buffy closed her eyes, weary. She wondered if there was another pair of chains around here somewhere or if she would just have to tie her to Spike. God, she was tired. She couldn't deal with this right now. She just wanted to sleep.
It hadn't even been an hour since she had sent the love of her life to hell. Doesn't a girl deserve a little rest after a thing like that?

Yes, she does, Buffy decided.

She looked at Drusilla with a contrite expression.

"I'm really sorry about this," she told the vampire before punching the confused woman, knocking her out. Buffy managed to catch her body before it fell and eased her gently to the ground.

The Slayer rubbed her hands over her face and rolled her shoulders. Okay, I'll just take a little nap. With as I hard as I hit her, she should be out for at least a couple hours. I can rest for about thirty minutes no problem.

Buffy hefted Drusilla up and took her into the room Spike was chained up in; it'd be easier to keep an eye on them in the same place. She got pillows and blankets from the bedrooms and placed one pillow under each of the vampires’ heads before covering them up. Then Buffy made herself a pallet on the floor and lay down and closed her eyes. When she opened them again a few hours later, the first thing she saw was Drusilla standing over Spike, a stake raised high in her hand.

Drusilla was standing over Spike, a stake in her hand. Spike was sitting up, his eyes closed, with a small, almost serene, smile on his face. His head was tilted up as if waiting and welcoming the blow that was to come.

It took a second for Buffy's sleep addled mind to comprehend the sight before her. She shook her head and blinked away the confusion and, as her brain cleared, panic struck.

"No!" she cried, scrambling to her feet and slipping slightly on the blanket under her.

Once she was up, Buffy ran straight for Drusilla. She tackled the vamp just as the stake was mere inches from Spike's chest. Buffy watched in relief as the weapon was knocked out of Drusilla's hand and skittered across the floor.

"Nnnoo!" Drusilla howled, and began writhing underneath Buffy for freedom. "I need that," she told the Slayer desperately."I have to help him."

"Help him?" Buffy sputtered incredulously, tightening her grip on the other woman's wrist. "You were going to kill him!"

Drusilla slowly moved her head from side to side. "I was trying to free him," she whispered, closing her eyes as tears slipped from them.

Buffy's brow knitted in confusion."Free him?"

Drusilla nodded. "From the hell I've trapped him in," she elaborated. "Poor, pretty William." She looked at the man with profound sorrow.

Dumbfounded, Buffy loosened her hold on Drusilla - who wasn't fighting back anymore anyway - and sat back, trying to figure this out.

Now that Buffy wasn't holding her down anymore, Drusilla rolled over and pushed herself up on

all fours, and crawled over to Spike.

Buffy stiffened, ready to jump in should Drusilla try anything. She took some comfort from the fact that Drusilla's discarded stake was relatively far away. Still, Buffy insisted on being cautious and inched closer towards the pair.

"So, beautiful," Dru murmured, touching a hand to his cheek. Spike closed his eyes and turned into the familiar caress. "He was the most beautiful thing I ever saw and I had to have him. Wasn't just his face," She stroked his cheek gently, watching as Spike's eyes opened and bore into hers. "It was what was in here," Drusilla placed her other hand on his chest. "Never had I felt such a heart, burning with such passion, such love, just waiting to give it to someone."

Drusilla looked away from him and down to the floor, as if not able to face him anymore.

"And now it's filled with sorrow," she went on quietly. "His pretty head that used to be swirling with words and poetry, now only has terrible memories. And it's all my fault."

Spike wrapped his fingers around the hand on his chest and squeezed gently. Drusilla brought her eyes back up to him in surprise.

"I don't blame you," he told her, his voice low and fierce. "It wasn't your fault."

Drusilla let out a whimper and crumbled onto Spike's chest. He wrapped his arms around her body, chains rattling with the movement, and bent his head to rest on top of hers. "I don't blame you," he whispered again.

Tears welled up in Buffy's eyes as she looked upon the couple. Despite the fact that she had been told that vampires were incapable of such emotions, Buffy had always-however grudgingly- acknowledged the two shared a deep affection for one another. But before all she had seen was a twisted kind of love, never noting the beauty of the couple, until now. The sight of them made her heart ache for her own lost love.

Buffy's eyes swept across the room to the now dormant statue of Acathla. The vision of her driving the sword into Angel's chest still much too fresh in her mind. She fought back the tears brimming in her eyes, she had to hold them in right now. If she let them fall they might never stop. She didn't have time to have a breakdown, yet.

She looked back to the couple; it seemed wrong for Buffy to be there, witnessing such an intimate moment. She felt as though she should give them privacy, but considering that it hadn't even been five minutes since Drusilla had tried to stake Spike, she wasn't so sure that that was a good idea.

Which reminded her, she was going to have to find some way of restraining the woman because, clearly, Drusilla was a danger to others, as well as herself.

With some hesitation, Buffy left the pair alone and went to search the bedrooms for another set of chains or maybe some rope. To the Slayer's dismay, there were no chains and there was no rope. Instead, Buffy had to resort to ripping up bed sheets in order to tie Drusilla to a chair. The thought of doing that to the clearly traumatized woman made Buffy's stomach clench. Yet, for the time being, she didn't really see any other option.

Buffy waited a little while, intentionally giving Spike and Drusilla more time alone, before going back into the room with her makeshift binds.

Drusilla appeared to have fallen asleep in Spike's arms while Spike's head rested against the wall, his eyes closed.

Buffy felt a pang of guilt, really not wanting to interrupt the resting couple. But being the Slayer had given her plenty of experience in doing things that she didn't want to do. So, steeling herself, Buffy strode over to them.

As she crouched down and reached out towards Drusilla, Spike's head snapped up and his eyes opened.

Buffy gasped in surprise, before quickly shaking it off.

Spike's gaze drifted to the strips of ripped up sheets in her hand.

"I have to," Buffy told him firmly, afraid he was going to argue.

Spike gave a nod. "I know," he whispered plaintively.

Buffy softened."I'm sorry," she said and carefully took the sleeping vampire from his arms. Deciding not to tie her to a chair after all, Buffy bound Drusilla's wrists and ankles before laying her back down on the pallet next to Spike.

When she finished, she looked at Spike. The vampire stared back at her with his unsettlingly beautiful, sad eyes. She wanted to say something to him but found that all her words had caught in her throat. They were probably all inadequate anyway.

So Buffy just turned away instead and went back to her own makeshift bed, laying down with her back to him.

After what seemed like ages of just lying awake, Buffy was just starting to feel sleep tugging her under when a sudden thought struck her.

Blood! They're going to need blood. The realization shook sleep away. She sat up and looked over to the vampires, now both sleeping.

Buffy could see light filtering in through a window from another room. Realizing that it was morning, she rubbed her hands over her face and got to her feet.

She didn't wear a watch and there weren't any clocks that she could see, but Buffy knew that the butcher's opened rather early. And, worst case scenario, she could always wake up Willy. Even though Buffy didn't like the idea of leaving the vampires just now, she knew they would probably need to feed when they woke up and wasn't like she could take them along. So, she figured, now was as good a time as any to go out.

With that in mind, Buffy took a breath and left, vowing to get back as soon as possible.

~*~*~*~

The sign on the butcher's shop window said that its hours were 6:30 to 10:00. It was now 5:45. So Buffy had 45 minutes to kill, which was good as she could use the time to take care of some more practical needs.

She snuck into her house and stuffed some of her belongings into a duffel bag. As Buffy got some other essentials from the bathroom -a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and the like- she could hear the shower calling to her. She really needed one, she was grimy, not to mention bloody, but Buffy didn't want to risk waking her mother. She settled for cleaning herself up as well as she could with a washcloth over the sink and changed out of her stained clothes.

Before leaving, Buffy wrote her mother a note goodbye then headed back to the butcher's shop. She got there just as the door was being unlocked.

~*~*~*~

A whisper of fingertips brushing against his cheek, pulled Spike out of sleep. Drusilla had often woken him this way when she was eager to tell him something, though it was usually accompanied by the sharp scrap of her nails. He opened his eyes and saw Drusilla peering back at him lovingly, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Mornin' love," Spike croaked. "Did you have a nice dream?" he asked her.

Drusilla's smile broadened, revealing her pearly white teeth. "I had the most wonderful vision." she told him.

"Is that so?" he responded out of habitual curiosity. Drusilla's visions had always been of particular interest to him. A thought wiggled its way into his sleep-addled mind and he remembered that Buffy had tied Drusilla up last night.

Spike looked around the room. The Slayer was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the girl?" he wondered.

"She left a little while ago," Drusilla informed. "I waited until she was gone to free myself, she didn't tie me tight enough, took pity on me, she did."

Spike's brow furrowed. He was surprised by Buffy's departure, though he didn't know why he should be. Why should she stick around and look after them? They weren't her responsibility. She had done more than she needed to already. The Slayer had shown them a kindness by not staking them both on the spot. She had more than enough reason to after all they'd done to her. Still, it bothered Spike that she was gone.

"Don't you want to know about my vision?" Drusilla prodded, breaking into his thoughts.

"'Course I do, pet," he assured her, smiling indulgently, "go on and tell us, then."

Drusilla bit her lip in consideration. "Well, I don't know if I should. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

"It's not nice to tease a fella, Dru," Spike responded playfully, now fully intrigued. "Come on love, tell me all about it."

She took his face in her hands and looked at him with excitement-filled eyes. "I'll tell you this, my heart," she began. "She'll save you. If you let her, she'll save you. And you can save her too. You'll save each other. I've seen it." She ran her hand across his forehead and down his cheek. "You'll be all right, everything will be all right now, love. I've seen it. And that's how I know I can go now."

"Go?" he wondered, brow furrowing. "Go where, pet?"

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. It was the sweetest kiss they had ever shared in all of their time together. Spike could feel the goodbye in that kiss and at once he knew what she was planning.

His eyes were wide with horror when she pulled away from him."Dru, no!" he cried.

"Goodbye, my beautiful boy," she whispered as she stood. Drusilla turned from him and began to walk away.

"No!" he screamed, thrashing with all his strength against his chains. The shackles dug into his wrist, breaking the skin. But Spike ignored the pain and fought harder. Bits of mortar started to chip from the wall.

Just a little more...

"Dru!" he called watching her walk on, she was close to the sunlight now. He pulled harder. "Drusilla!"

Drusilla looked back at him and smiled. "Remember what I told you," she said. "You can save each other; you just have to be opened to it."

Spike stilled, feeling hopeless. "Please no," he whispered. Then the woman he loved for over a century stepped into the light and turned to dust.

~*~*~*~

Buffy trudged up Crawford Street, on her way back to the mansion. She had her duffel bag slung on her shoulder bumping against her leg with every step. Her arms were filled with two large paper bags; one full of blood and another with some regular food for herself. She wanted to limit her trips out, not wanting to leave Spike and Drusilla alone too much until they started to act more stable.

Buffy laughed lightly; there wasn't particularly much mirth in the sound.

Look at me, she thought. Yesterday I was, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and here I am today, Buffy the Vampire Sitter.

To onlookers, the tiny girl looked rather awkward juggling all her bags and she had had several offers for a ride from passing motorists - mostly from middle-aged men.

Try lugging demon carcasses over your shoulder, she thought. Now that's awkward.

Buffy was relieved when she found herself nearing the mansion, knowing she was soon going to be able to lay down her burdens.

I hope I got enough blood for a while,she fretted. She wanted to have at least a week's supply for them each. You would think she would know better about how much blood a vampire needed after her relationship with one.

Buffy paused at the entrance to the mansion. She closed her eyes and took a readying breath.

Here we go.

Spike had screamed and sobbed for as long as his throat could take. It was a good thing that people didn't use Crawford Street that often or someone surely would have called the police about the man being tortured.

That's why Angelus had chosen it, for its secluded area.

When his voice gave out, he slumped against wall, drained, defeated. And soon after that, he became numb.

That was the state he was in when Buffy came bumbling back in. You could hardly recognise the girl from all the stuff in her hands; it swallowed her up. But not being able to see her didn't matter with Spike, he could tell her by her scent and when he did a flicker a life came back to him, he was surprised.

"You're back," he remarked hoarsely. He hadn't imagined she would come back. He'd thought that he was going to be left alone here chained up until he finally starved to death.

It would've be fitting for me, he thought.

"I had to get some blood." Buffy's voice filtered into to his muddled brain. "And clothes, and food," she added. A moment later, when she noticed that she and Spike were alone in the room ,her eyes went wide. "Where's Drusilla?" Her voice denoting her panic.

"She's gone," Spike whispered.

"Gone? Gone where?"

Spike closed his eyes and a tear slipped down, he shook his head, Hadn't thought I had any of those left.

Buffy could see the answer written all over the vampire.

"No," she said, shaking her head back and forth in denial. She dropped the bags in her hand with a loud thud. "No!" She whipped around and ran from the room.

"Drusilla!" Buffy called. "Drusilla are you here? It's Buffy. Dru-" she stopped short when she came to the window and saw the pile of ashes laying there.

"No," she whispered and dropped to her knees. "No!"

She scooped up a handful of the ashes, they slipped through her fingertips. A raw sob escaped from her throat. Tears started flowing from her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated over and over again, until her crying became so fierce her words were mangled. It was the first time she had allowed herself to really cry since she killed Angel. She had held the tears back as best she could and now that they had been freed, they wouldn't stop. Angel had been her first love. She had loved him more than her own life. And she had killed him. She would have gladly died in his place. She wished that she could have. But she couldn't. Angel was dead and she was here, she was alive. So she had to go on with the memory of killing him. "Oh god, I'm sorry!" She cried again, but not for Drusilla. Her whole body racked with the intensity of her sobs. "I'm so so sorry."

Spike could hear her cries from the other room. The sound sent a stab into his chest. He wanted to go to her, to put his arms around her, to hold her. He wanted to give her comfort. But the chains she had put him in wouldn't allow it.

'You can save each other...'Drusilla's voice echoed in his mind. Is this what she had meant? He couldn't really think of better explanation. Dru had meant he and Buffy; that they could be each other's salvation. The idea of it seemed to give the woman who had spent over a century locked in the muddled hell of her own mind peace at last.

It was what she had wanted for Spike. The last thing she had wanted.

That realization gave Spike renewed strength. He yanked on his chains, groaning loudly from the effort. It was worth it, he decided, because finally the hinge on the wall gave way. His wrists were still manacled, but he was no longer tethered.

Spike collapsed in his sudden freedom and he took a second to collect himself before getting to his feet.

He found Buffy down on the ground, right in front of the window, right in the sunlight.

Spike crept to her carefully and dropped to his knees, just under the cover of the shadows. Ignoring the burning rays of light, he reached his arms out to her and took her up in them.

Buffy didn't resist or react, just let herself fall against him.

Spike didn't shush her the way most people did when comforting a weeping mess; silencing her wasn't his objective. He just wanted to offer her something to hold onto. And to have a solid hold on something in this world for himself.

She clutched at his back and continued to cry in that loud, unimpeded way that small children do. He stroked her hair and wept with her.

Their tears, each for their own lost loves, mingled together as Spike's slipped down his chin onto her cheek.

Buffy's body was mostly shielding Spike's from the glare of the sun, but his arms had no protection from its beams. They started to smoke and sizzle. Buffy didn't seem to notice and Spike didn't flinch as his skin sizzled and smoldered. He just gritted his teeth and welcomed the pain.

It was the least he deserved.

TBC...

"Spike, I'm back!" Buffy called out as she entered the mansion arms loaded with more food for herself and blood for Spike.

Blood that he hadn't been drinking nearly enough of, Buffy could tell. But she was just glad that he had started to drink any of it at all. The first few days after Drusilla's self immolation had been rough to say the least. Spike had fought Buffy every time she tried to get him to drink and he had started to look scarily like the corpse that he actually was.

And his lack of feeding habits hadn't even been the worst of it. Buffy couldn't even count how many times she had caught Spike trying to follow his lover's lead and dust himself. She never let him out of her sight during daylight hours. And to be safe she took the liberty of removing any and all pointy wooden objects from the mansion and anything sharp enough to decapitate someone.

And then there were the nightmares...

Buffy would hear Spike letting out horrible raging cries in the night that would rip her out of her own not so pleasant dreams about killing Angel. She would climb into Spike's bed with him and hold him. At first he would resist, thrashing in her arms, but after a while he would still, settling into Buffy’s embrace, his screams turning to whimpers. Then eventually he would fall to sleep. Buffy was comforted by the contact as well, she never once had any nightmare’s of the night she killed her lover when she was next to Spike.

Though they both appreciated them, they never talked about those nights. Buffy would always wake up before Spike and slip out of the room and they would go about everything as if it never happened. In fact, when he wasn’t upset from night terrors, Spike would mostly flinch away from any physical contact with Buffy. Which she thought was odd, but she never asked him about it, she just tried to respect it and kept her hands to herself.

Eventually those nights of screaming and crying turned into to talking. Whenever one, or both of them had a hard time sleeping they would trek down the hall to the other’s room and tap lightly on the door. They always let each other in no questions asked. They would talk about anything and everything, as long as the subjects of Angel, Drusilla and Spike’s crimes were avoided. They had shared a lot with each other over the last five weeks. Like Buffy learned that Spike played in a punk band back in the seventies; he sang and played guitar. Buffy had told him about her love a figure skating and how she use to compete when she was little; her dream had been to go to the Olympics, be the next Dorothy Hamill. But then fate stepped in.

In those conversations Buffy had seen Spike come back to life. He would be animated and laugh, call her love and pet. They really made her think that he was getting better. It was this seeming improvement that had made Buffy feel comfortable enough to extend her excursion and drop by the laundromat today. She had hesitated until now, but she really needed to go; she was running out of underwear. Spike had insisted that it was fine, that he would be fine. And Buffy had trusted him, but what if he had just been placating her.

"Spike?" Buffy called out again, a growing sense of panic building in her chest.

What if he had been planning this? He could have just been showing Buffy what she wanted to see, telling her what she wanted to hear. Pretending to get better, biding his time until she was comfortable enough to leave him alone. Alone so that he could...

Oh God what if he...

Buffy dropped the bags from her hands and raced toward the bedroom to find the vampire.

"Spike!" she called running through the place. "Spike, where are-"

"I'm here." The sound of the Spike's voice sent of wave of relief over her. She turned around to find him sitting in a dark corner.

Buffy sighed seeing him. "Thank god," she said, breathlessly. "You scared me. Why didn't you answer when I called to you? And don't say you didn't hear me, 'cause you know I'm not gonna buy that. You're a vampire, you could have heard me from down the block."

The vampire wearily shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry," Spike muttered, "didn't mean to upset you." He looked away, trying to discreetly sniff back tears.

Buffy looked away and pretended not to notice. "Uh, it's okay," she said. "I just got a little worried when you didn't answer I thought..." She shook her head. "Well, never mind what I thought. I got more blood," she segued. “You should try to take some."

"I don't really have that much of an appetite."

"So I've noticed," Buffy dryly commented. "But you haven't had any since yesterday and that wasn't much. Will you try at least, just a little?" she cajoled.

Spike sighed and nodded, putting his hands against the wall to brace himself so he could get to his feet. Buffy wanted to help him with the task, but knew he wouldn’t be welcoming to the aid not when it involved touching.. So she curled her hands into fist and put them behind her back, to avoid temptation. She took a step back and watched as the weakened vampire struggled to stand. Buffy let out a silent sigh when Spike finally managed to get to his feet. She gave him a small smile and turned to go retrieve the blood she had dropped earlier. Spike followed.

Buffy was surprised the first time she entered the kitchen and found it was fully equipped with all the creature comforts a human would need: stove, fridge, microwave, even a toaster and coffee maker. She wasn’t sure that there would be any of these the in a vampire’s lair. Angel’s apartment had been fairly spartan; he only had a refrigerator to keep blood. She had assumed the place must’ve come furnished. But later learned that it was Spike who had insisted on the amenities; he enjoyed real food. After learning this Buffy had told him he was welcome to any of the groceries he wanted. He’d yet to take her up on the offer though.

Buffy filled up a mug with blood and popped it in the microwave to warm. In the mean time she started putting the rest of the blood to the fridge.

"Why are you doing this?" Spike asked her while she was shelving the Styrofoam containers.

"Because otherwise the blood would spoil," she glibly replied.

"I didn't mean that," he said, a small smirk twitching his lips. "I mean, why are you helping me? You've never given me a real explanation." It was a question that had been weighing on his mind since that first moment when the Slayer had tried to comfort him right after he got his soul. It never made sense to him why she would go out of her way like this for him. Spike had wanted to ask her before, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Or to upset her, make her want to leave, because the last thing he wanted was for her to leave. Spike knew he didn't deserve Buffy’s kindness, but he still wanted it anyway.

The microwave timer beeped. Buffy closed the refrigerator door and went to retrieve the mug. She carefully carried it over to Spike, using the time it allotted her to try and formulate her response. “Careful, it’s hot,” she cautioned, setting the steaming mug down in front of the vampire.

“Thanks,” he murmured, then raised his eyebrow at her expectantly, still waiting for an answer.

Buffy sighed, "I'm helping you because you're in bad shape and you need help. It would be wrong of me to turn my back on you. I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do, that’s kinda the Slayer’s job, to do what’s right, so...” She finished with a shrug.

Spike wrapped his hands around the warm mug and leaned forward. He scrutinized Buffy, who was looking down at her hands splayed on the countertop. He didn’t doubt her words, but he got a feeling there was something more to it than just that, something she obviously didn’t feel like sharing just yet. So Spike didn’t press the issue.

"All right, that's fair enough," he conceded. "And believe me Slayer I appreciate all you've done for me. But I don't need a constant babysitter anymore. I promise I won't try to top myself if you leave me alone for more than an hour," he assured. "I mean when was the last time you went home? Other than the once to get some clothes, I'm sure you mum's worried out of her mind. And what about school, isn’t that going to be starting up soon?"

"I got kicked out," Buffy told him, her voice quiet. "Of school and my house. So I have no where else I need to be."

"What do you mean you got kicked out of your house?" Spike inquired, brow knitted. He couldn’t imagine Buffy’s mum throwing the girl out, it didn’t reconcile with the woman he had met. He had a phantom headache remembering his first encounter with the eldest Summers lady which proved to him how much she loved her child. “When did that happen?”

Buffy shifted uneasily, "The night we fought Angel,” she informed. “The night my mom found out who-what I was, that I was the slayer, she freaked out. She couldn't understand it, couldn’t handle it. I tried to explain, but she didn't get it. We had a sort of fight about me going to take on Angel and she told me if I left not to bother to come back so..."

Spike let a silent moment tick by before saying anything. "I'm sure she didn't mean it," he offered. "And I bet she feels just terrible about it now. Mum's say things sometimes, do things they don't really mean. Even the good ones. Which yours is by the way. My time with her might have been limited, but even in that little bit I could tell you were her world. She's gotta be worried sick. Does she even know where you are?"

"I left a note," Buffy answered evasively.

"Right, okay,” Spike drawled.”And did you happen to mention where you were going to be in this note?"

"No," Buffy grudgingly admitted. She sighed, "Look, I know I'm going to have to eventually face my mother and everyone, and I will, but not right now. I just I can't. I'm not ready."

Spike nodded. "I understand. You gotta do this in your own time. Sorry if I was a bit pushy."

"You weren't," she assured. "Well , you kinda were." The pair shared a smile. “But it’s okay. And thanks," she added.

"For what?" Spike wondered.

"For what you said, about my mom, my being her world and all."

He shrugged. "Just call it like I see it, pet." He lifted the mug to Buffy as if in solute, then brought it to his lips and drank.

Buffy smiled watching him down the whole thing in record time then readily got up when he asked for a refill.

~*~*~*~

“All right, Slayer,” said Spike, “do your worst.”

“Uh, shouldn’t you be wanting me to do my best?” Buffy asked, standing over him with the bottle of hair dye in her gloved hand.

Spike looked up at her with a wry expression, “I’m just trying not to get my hopes up.” he said. Buffy rolled her eyes. “I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” he said, not for the first time, “is it really necessary?”

“Yes!” Buffy adamantly contended. “ You can’t see yourself so you don’t understand the direness of your hair situation, trust me, this needs to be done. So lean back,” she ordered.

Spike dutifully leaned his head back against the sink and Buffy tried to secure the towel, that kept slipping, over his shirt. “Ugh!” she cried out, frustrated, “Why won’t this damn thing stay up?”

Spike couldn’t help crack a grin.

“We’ll see how much you’re smiling when you’re shirt gets ruined from peroxide stains.”

Spike shrugged, his popping up. “Simple way to fix that,” he said, “I’ll just take it off.”

Buffy froze, swallowing against a suddenly dry throat. “Take it off?” she practically squeaked. “Take your shirt off?”

“That’s what I had in mind, yeah.” He tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing her through narrowed eyes, left brow cocked, “Unless that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Pfft, why should that make me uncomfortable?” Buffy replied with airy indifference, “Go ahead, take it off, I don’t care.”

“All right then.” Spike leaned up and pulled the black tee over his head. He rolled it up and tossed it aside.

Buffy was careful to keep her eyes up, “Better?”

“Yep.”

“Good, then lean back. I still have to get to the butcher’s before closing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting her. Buffy rolled her eyes and shook the little plastic bottle of hair dye.

“Ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Buffy leaned over him and began spurting the dye along his root line, massaging it with her gloved hands.

“Mmm.” A small moan escaped from Spike. “That feels good.” He cracked open his eyes and looked up at Buffy. “You’re good with your hands.”

The huskiness of his voice induced a shiver in the pit of Buffy’s stomach, and looking into his eyes was having the usual disconcerting effect. She’d never seen such pure blue.

She cleared her throat, shaking herself. “Thanks,” Buffy muttered. “Now close your eyes; you don’t want any of this dripping in them.”

Spike did as he was told. Buffy closed her eyes too, taking a deep breath. She was still trying to steady herself. She resumed applying the hair dye for a few minutes without comment and had recovered from the effect Spike had had on her and was starting to feel complacent. But then she went and let her eyes slip from the safe spot that was the top of Spike’s head down to his placid face; He looked relaxed and beautiful, completely at ease with Buffy’s hands on him. Buffy remembered how skittish he had been just a short time ago, it was a testament to just how far he had come that he was allowing her to do this. Thinking about how much trust they had built with each other made Buffy smile.

But then she suddenly became uncomfortable with the level of emotion that hit her, and had to look away from his face. Everything would have been fine if she had just looked up instead of down. Now Buffy’s eyes were locked on the chiseled perfection that was Spike’s chest. Her mouth was dry again, she licked her lips. Her breathing started to go shallow. She knew she should look away, but she was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of his marble cut torso. It looked like one of those Greek statues; artistically sculpted and flawless.

Buffy wondered if it felt as hard and smooth as it looked. She imagined running her hand along his chest, his abs, then maybe a little lower... she bit her lip to stifle a moan.

“Uh, pet?” Spike prodded, trying to get the Slayer’s attention. It didn’t quite work. “Buffy!” he tried again, a bit louder, and managed to snap her out of her daze.

“Hmm?” she said, then pulled her eyes to see that she was slathering Spike’s forehead. “Oh god, sorry.” She snatched up the towel off the counter and started wiped off the mess she made on his head. Once he was all clean Buffy stammered, “Uh, so you’re all done, you just have to let it set for fifteen minutes, then rinse.” She peeled off her gloves and chucked them in the trash. “I’m going to go have a quick shower,” she told him, turning and hastening from the room.

Buffy wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible before Spike figured out why she had flaked. She knew all about vampires enhanced sense of smell; they could tell when someone was aroused by scent. Buffy hadn’t gone into full fledged fantasy mode, but she didn’t want to take the chance she was giving off anything.

I better go ahead and make that a cold shower.

Spike stared after the girl a look of astonishment of his face. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, but he could swear that the vibes he had just been getting off the Slayer were the extra- friendly kind. But that couldn’t be, he must’ve been imagining. But what if he wasn’t. The idea brought a slow smile across his face.

~*~

Buffy gasped, jumping when she heard a loud yelp, that sounded like someone in pain, and there was only one someone in the mansion other than her. Worry and panic propelled her to jump out of the shower. She only just remembered to grab a towel to wrap around herself before bolting out of the bathroom, running toward where she thought the cry had come from. She found Spike in the kitchen, he was bent over the sink spraying his head with the detachable hose.

“What?” she asked frantically, “What’s the matter?”

“My head’s on fire that’s what!” Spike yelled. “You must not of done it right. I swear if I end up bald, soul or not, I’m gonna bite you.”

After Buffy came down from her initial panic, she was able to appreciate the humour of the situation. She started giggling uncontrollably.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Spike asked incensed, whipping his head up from the sink and turning to look at her. As soon as he saw her his jaw dropped, any traces of anger or annoyance left his face.

Seeing the way he was staring at her sobered Buffy as she realised she was only in a towel. Suddenly feeling exposed she wrapped her arms about herself tightly.

Perhaps it was the peroxide; maybe it had leached through his skull and ate away at his brain. Or maybe the fumes killed off a few of his brain cells. But most likely it ha d something to do with the girl standing before him practically naked and dripping wet, that had Spike at a loss for words. He felt his eyes gloss over as he looked at Buffy, nothing but a piece of cotton keeping him from getting a look at her beautiful ripe body. Now his head was really on fire.

“Y-you haven’t got any clothes on,” Spike brilliantly pointed out.

“Yeah, well I didn’t exactly have time to get dressed. When I heard you screaming like a girl I was worried it was an emergency. If I had known it was just you being a big baby because of your hair, I wouldn’t have bothered getting out of the shower.”

Buffy’s snarkyness snapped Spike from his lust induced daze and reminded him that he was angry,“Oh, sorry ‘bout that.” he said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your shower. Here let me make it up to you.” He took up the hose again. He took aim at her and squeezed the trigger.

“Spike!” Buffy squealed, “stop it!”

“Make me,” he taunted, then sprayed her again.

Buffy shrieked and darted out of the line of fire, but the spray just followed her. She made it to the refrigerator and yanked the door open, then ducked down to use it as cover. “You are so dead,” She warned him, “–er,” she added, “dead–er.” She heard him laugh and her already simmering blood began to boil. She saw the carton of eggs sitting on the shelf and smiled wickedly. She grabbed two, then quickly popped up from her protective barrier and lobbed them at him, hitting him in the chest. “Ha!” she cried triumphantly before ducking back down.

“Hey!” Spike shouted. “That’s not cool.”

“What?” Buffy countered, “You started it!”

“Well, yeah okay, I did. But I only got you with water, which doesn’t really count since you were already wet.”

“That’s some pretty fuzzy logic you’re using there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Spike said, “you’re right I was out of line. I shouldn’t have sprayed you. How about a truce? You put down the eggs, I’ll put down the hose."

Buffy thought this over for a beat. “Okay,” she agreed. “But you first. Put down the hose.”

“Okay.”

She waited until she heard the zipping noise of the hose retracting, then carefully rose from her crouched position. “Now take a step back,” she ordered. He did.

“Now you, let me see your hands,” Spike countered.

“Okay,” Buffy brightly complied. She lifted up her hands, one was free the other holding a little white oval. She smiled.

“He– ” Spike didn’t even have time to get out the small word before he was pelted with another egg.

Before she even knew if she had hit her target, Buffy had whirled around and bolted from the room.

Spike swiped away the yolk on his chest, his jaw clenching. “All right, then, that’s it. No more Mr. Nice vampire,” he muttered before making chase after the Slayer.

Buffy was still giggling about her "fight" with Spike as she strolled down the darkened street toward the butcher's shop. It had been a long time since she had had so much fun. She had laughed so hard she couldn't breathe. It was odd- in good way- how comfortable she was around Spike, especially given that a year hadn't even passed since the supposed Slayer of Slayers showed up in Sunnydale looking to add Buffy to his tally. Now they were...friends.

Buffy shook her head in utter bafflement at the thought. Spike is my friend. He wasn't just a friend, he was one of the best friends she'd ever had. It just went to show you that on the Hellmouth, anything was possible.

She smiled to herself, hand trailing along the wrought iron fence of Restfield cemetery. It had been awhile since Buffy had ventured onto hallowed ground; not since Spike's ensouling, what with keeping an eye on him and all she didn't really have much time for patrolling. Right now her mind was so preoccupied with happier thoughts that she didn't even notice that she was at the gate of her old staking ground Reality came crashing back when an ear-splitting scream cut into the night air and she froze. She only let her surprise slow her down for a fraction of a second before her Slayer instincts kicked in and she took off like a shot into the cemetery.

Thankfully, even though she hadn't been so much with the slayage, Buffy hadn't gotten out of the habit of keeping a stake in her bag and she whipped it out as she ran in the direction of the scream. She soon found the source: a girl pinned down under a vamp. The vampire had just risen, if the turned up earth on a nearby grave and the dirt on his suit were any indication.

Buffy ran over, grabbed the newly undead by the back of his neck, and tossed him into his own headstone. She glanced at the epitaph: Charles Barton.

"Sorry Charlie," Buffy quipped, "but it looks like you chose the wrong night to rise from the grave." The vamp looked up at her, snarling and growling. He lunged at her; Buffy stepped aside and stuck out her foot, sending the vampire reeling. Not giving him a moment's reprieve, she quickly jumped on him and staked the vampire with ease.

After the deed was done, an unexpected smile crept its way onto Buffy's face. "Still got it," she murmured to herself. She'd been out of practice for some time, it was nice to know she hadn't lost her knack. She got to her feet and brushed the vamp dust from her clothes, turning around to check on her damsel in distress.

"Are you-" was all Buffy managed to say before she saw the girl's face. "Willow?" she gasped, stunned.

Willow's green eyes were huge as saucers as she, still lying on the ground, looked up at her friend who had been MIA for weeks. "B-Buffy? W-when did you... How did you... Where've you been?"

Buffy shook off her shock and pushed herself to go and help her friend off the ground. "Here," she offered her hand. "I think this conversation will be uncomfortable enough without you lying on the ground."

Willow smiled wanly. "Thanks." Once she was on her feet, she just looked at Buffy for a moment, shaking her head. "Buffy...my god it's really you. You're back!" She squealed, throwing her arms around the Slayer.

Buffy couldn't help but smile. She had missed her friend terribly, not realising just how much until now. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the other girl, enjoying the embrace.

"Nighthawk calling Black Cat, come in Black Cat, do you read me?" The tinny urgent voice of Xander Harris intruded.

Brows knitted together, Buffy pulled back and looked at the walkie-talkie on the ground. Willow rushed to scoop it up.

"Again, this is Nighthawk. Is everything okay? Copy."

"I'm fine, Xander," Willow said into the speaker. "But there's something you guys need to see over here."

"Thank god," Xander replied, clearly relieved. "Next time answer the first time I call, and hey, what's with name? Nighthawk, remember?"

"Fine, Nighthawk, you and the gang should get your butts over her pronto. Over and out."

"Copy that. Over."

Willow rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Nighthawk? Black Cat?" Buffy questioned.

"It's nothing. Not even worth explaining. Unlike you and your disappearance, then subsequent reappearance. That is something that definitely requires some 'splainin', so...?"

Buffy sighed, rubbing her brow wearily. "I-"

"Willow, what's the up?" Xander's voice cut in. "What's here that we need to see so b- Buffy." He stopped short at the sight of the girl causing Cordelia, who was right behind him, to crash into him.

"Hey, what- Oh, hey Buffy!" She didn't sound nearly as floored as her boyfriend.

Buffy smiled slightly. "Hey, Cordy."

Oz and Giles brought up the rear. Giles, upon seeing his Slayer, was completely at a loss for words while Oz reacted in his classic, laconic style. "Whoa...hey."

"Buff, my god..." Xander uttered, staring at her in disbelief before rushing and throwing his arms around her. Xander was so happy to see the Slayer that he hardly noticed the bone-crushing force of her hug. But after a moment, he realised that he was in danger of some serious internal injuries and grudgingly broke away.

Two less fierce embraces followed; first from Cordelia, which was a bit of a surprise, then Oz. Tears were gleaming in the eyes of the next person in the tableaux. Giles silently gazed down at his Slayer, still reeling from the shock of her sudden reappearance. Finally, his brain managed to regain basic motor functions and he lifted his hand to touch her cheek. "Buffy," he murmured, eyes shining with joy. "Welcome home."

Buffy's bottom lip trembled, suddenly overcome with happiness and, for the first time, she was the one to initiate contact, flinging herself recklessly at the man that was more than just her Watcher but the closet thing she had to a father.

Giles let out a whoosh as her grip knocked the wind from him, but he didn't mind. He chuckled and returned the girl's embrace with just as much fervor.

"So, Buff," Xander hazarded after she and Giles separated. "Where have you been? What happened?"

"Were you with Angel?" Willow asked, a gleam of hopefulness in her eyes.

"Uh, no, Angel didn't- he's gone," she quietly informed, looking at the ground.

Willow looked slightly dejected but not surprised, nor did anyone else.

"We figured that's what happened," Xander proclaimed gently. "You know, when the world didn't end and all."

Buffy gave a small smile. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry Buffy," Willow offered, tears in her eyes. "I tried. I did the spell again, I wanted it to work. I thought it had. I was hoping maybe..."

Buffy looked at her friend - so full of compassion. "It did work, Will."

Willow's head snapped up. "What?"

"It worked," Buffy repeated, "you did ensoul a vampire, just not the one you were aiming for."

A round of confused faces looked at her. "Spike was there. He was the one who was helping me fight Angel."

"Spike?" Xander sputtered. "That was your mystery ally?"

Buffy nodded.

"No wonder you said I wouldn't believe it if you told me," Willow added dazedly.

"Dear god," Giles muttered, jumping ahead to the conclusion. "Buffy are you saying that Spike...?"

"Yeah," she confirmed.

"Oh!" Willow exclaimed, getting it. "Oh, my god! How...?"

"Wait," Xander inserted, putting up a hand, "so, what you're saying here is...What is it you're saying here?"

"Spike has a soul," Oz leaned over and supplied.

"Oh." Xander nodded in understanding. "No, wait. What?"

"Spike?" Cordelia questioned. "Spike, Spike? Crazy, scary, tried to kill us all, Billy Idol wannabe Spike?"

"That's the one," Buffy confirmed. "And actually, Billy Idol's the one who copied his look."

"Um, so where is he now?" Giles inquired.

Buffy's brow bunched. "Billy Idol? I don't know." She shrugged. "I think that's a question for VH1."

Giles gave Buffy a very familiar look of exasperation.

"Oh," she smiled sheepishly, "you meant Spike. He's at the mansion."

"And that's where you have been?"Giles inquired.

"Um...yeah." Buffy answered slowly.

"You've been right here in Sunnydale this entire time?" He pressed.

"Yes." Something about his manner had Buffy feeling anxious. "Why?"

Giles lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "No reason."

"No reason?" Xander spluttered. "Oh there's a reason, this whole time while you've been playing house with another poor, tortured, and souled vamp, Giles has been running himself ragged, looking all around the country for you!"

Buffy's fist clenched at her sides, incensed by Xander's words. "Now you wait just a damn minute, Xander! I have not been playing house with Spike. I've been helping him through a very difficult ordeal. He's been in a kind of pain that I can't even fathom, trying to live with insurmountable guilt."

"Why, what could he have to feel guilty about?" Xander asked mockingly. "Oh wait, that's right, the torture and murder of countless innocent people."

Buffy's jaw stiffened, she couldn't believe this. Just a few minutes ago she was hugging Xander, so happy to see him and now she wanted nothing more than to punch his lights out.

"Okay, okay, let's all just take a beat here, huh?" Willow said, stepping between Xander and Buffy, who looked ready to use her slaying skills on the boy. "Now, there's no denying that Spike has done unspeakably evil things-" Buffy opened her mouth, ready to argue. Willow put up her hand and went on. "But, since he has a soul now that changes things; we can't hold him accountable for those crimes since he wasn't in control."

Xander scoffed and was met with glares from both the Slayer and the witch. He sighed. "Look, all I'm saying is that once upon a time Angel had his soul too and look how well that turned out."

A beat passed.

"This is different," Buffy asserted. "Spike and I aren't...involved. I'm just helping him. Speaking of which, I'm supposed to be going to the butcher's to get him some blood, and it's getting late..."

Buffy softened as she looked at her Watcher. "Giles, I'm sorry that I had you worried and you went all over the place trying to find me. I should have got in touch. Things were just a bit out of hand. I'm sorry, really," she repeated.

Giles smiled at her. "You're forgiven. But, Buffy are you sure what you are doing with Spike is wise?"

Buffy sighed. "Look, okay I get the concern, all right? All you think of when you think of Spike is the monster that terrorised us last year, but I'm telling you that that monster is gone. Spike is not a threat anymore, trust me."

"Of course, we do," Willow chimed in; she looked pointedly to all of her friends. "Right guys?"

They all mumbled something that passed for assent.

"Gee thanks," Buffy replied dryly before turning to Willow with a genuine look of gratitude. "Thanks, Will. Look, I really do have to get going - I've seen what happens to Spike when he doesn't feed and it is not pretty."

"Do you want some company?" Willow asked. "Or do you need any help with Spike? My parents are out of town, I could come with you."

Buffy didn't see this as being in any way a good idea but she didn't want to hurt Willow's feelings. "Um, I really appreciate the offer, Will, but I don't think I should really spring anyone on Spike just yet. I mean he's barely comfortable having just me around at this point."

Willow smiled sympathetically and nodded. "I understand. But let me know if you need anything. I mean it. I'm here for you."

"Thanks. I know." She leaned over and gave her friend a quick embrace.

"Buffy, I think we still need to discuss this matter some more," Giles pressed.

"I know, Giles, and we will, just later, okay? I'll come by the library tomorrow."

Giles gave a resigned sigh. "Very well."

"All right, I'll see you tomorrow."

~*~*~*~

"I just don't like this." Xander said for the umpteenth time. After their confrontation with Buffy in the cemetery, the group had adjourned to the school library. "None of you can honestly think this is going to end well. I mean Buffy is shacking up with another vampire."

"They are not shacking up," Willow argued. "Stop trying to make this sound like something it's not. Buffy is only helping Spike through what must be an unimaginably difficult transition. They're not involved, Buffy told us that flat out. So okay, I admit that there are certain parallels going on here, but Spike is not Angel."

"Willow's right," Cordelia piped up. "Spike and Angel are nothing alike. Their builds are completely different. So is their colouring and their wardrobe- " she stopped, short taking note of the all the gaping eyes on her. "What?"

"I don't think Willow was referring to their appearance Cordelia," Giles wearily explained.

Cordelia shrugged. "Oh."

"Look you guys," Willow ventured "Buffy isn't stupid. she knows what she's doing. And I kind of got the feeling tonight that helping Spike wasn't just about helping Spike. I think she needs to be doing this right now. To help distract her from what happened to Angel. So like I said before, we have to support her." No one said anything. They all supposed the redhead was right. She usually was.

"I still don't like it," Xander repeated miserably. "But I guess I'll just have to deal with it."

"Darn tootin'." Willow affirmed

Xander couldn't help but smile at his friend. She was so adorable. The boy mentally shook himself. He was not supposed to have those kinds of thoughts about Willow. She was his best friend, not to mention the fact that he had a girlfriend.

"You okay?" Cordelia asked him, speak of the devil. "You got a weird look on your face all of a sudden."

Xander shrugged, "Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her. "Just thinking about the Buffy and Spike situation, is all."

 ~*~*~*~

Spike was sitting at the hearth of the fireplace when Buffy entered the mansion. He looked at her nonchalantly.

"You're back," he said, as if just taking notice of this fact. The truth of it was that he had sensed her coming minutes ago and had quickly grabbed a book, trying to look as though he hadn't been counting the minutes since she'd left. "Seems it took you a bit longer than usual. Long queue?"

Buffy shook her head, looking a bit distracted. "Uh, no. I had an unexpected encounter in the cemetery."

Spike eyes narrowed with interest. "Vampire or demon?"

"Human."

Spike's brow shot up.

"My friends were there," she elaborated. "I guess they've been picking up the slaying slack while I've been..."

"Vamp sitting," Spike supplied.

Buffy smirked. "Yeah."

"So..." Spike hazarded after a beat, "how'd that go then, with your mates?"

Buffy thought about it. "It went...a lot better than I thought it might."

To Spike's surprise, she didn't sound all that thrilled.

Buffy had been dreading the encounter; she knew that her friends weren't going to be too psyched when they found out what she had been up to all this time. That Xander was the only one who truly ragged on her about it should have been seen as a win. But, for some reason, Buffy just didn't feel right.

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" Spike hedged. "I mean, they didn't try and tie you down and drag you away so you couldn't come back here..."

Buffy let out a light laugh. No matter how she was feeling, whether it was sad, confused, or angry, Spike was always able to make her smile.

That's when it hit her. The reason she wasn't on the joy train about things going well with her friends was because, now that they knew, it wouldn't just be her and Spike anymore.

This whole time Buffy had been focused on helping Spike and making sure he was okay, she hadn't taken the time to really ponder just how much he had helped her.

In the last few weeks, she and Spike had built up a sort of bubble around them that nothing could penetrate. It kept out all the hurt and pain; nothing could touch them as long as they were together.

Guess I should have known it couldn't last forever,. Buffy thought, a tightness in her chest and a heat building behind her eyes that threatened to turn into tears.

'Cause that's the thing about bubbles; sooner or later, they always burst

"So how'd it go?" Spike inquired as Buffy entered the mansion. She had been to see her mother for the first time, knowing that after having the encounter with her friends, she wasn’t going to be able to put it off any longer.

"It was fine," Buffy replied. "In a weird, awkward kind of way. But it was also good. I know I was dreading it, but I'm glad I went."

"Good," Spike smiled. "That's good."

Buffy returned his smile “Yeah, you know there was crying and hugging and all that good stuff." She bit into her bottom lip, not sure of how to tell him the next part. She decided to just do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. "She wants me to come home." Buffy stole a glance at him to gauge his reaction. Spike’s expression was impassive.

"Well, that's no real surprise," he commented after a beat. "So when are you going then?"

"Um, I kind of told my mom I would come pick up my things and be back tonight," she said in a rush.

Spike nodded. "I see. That soon."

"It's just that we have so much to work out between us," Buffy went on. "Our relationship is kind of fractured right now and I really hate that. I want to get things back to the way they were with her, or even better since now I don't have to keep secrets from her. I just want to try to repair things as soon as possible. But I'm still going to help you. If you need anything, you know I'll be here."

"I appreciate that, pet," Spike said with a smile, "but you don't have to worry about me. You don't have to justify your reasons for wantin’ to go home either. I get it. I it’s a good thing.”

"You do?" Buffy asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah. It's about time you got back to your life," Spike affirmed. "I reckon the change’ll be good for me an’ all too.” he added after a slight pause.

"You do?" Buffy said again, feeling deflated. Spike wanted her to leave? All this time she had thought he wanted her around. That he needed her. But now he was saying that it was good that she was leaving? She had anticipated him being upset. Not that Buffy wanted him to be upset. Nevertheless, it would have made her feel like she hadn’t been wasting her time these past couple of months.

Spike smiled, seeming to sense what Buffy was thinking. "Don't get me wrong, love, I appreciate everything you've done for me," he told her. "I probably wouldn't be standing here right now if it weren't for you. I'd be a pile of ashes by now. But I'm in a better head-space now, because of you. So, if I'm really going to be of any use in this world, I need to start getting by on me own. I can't rely on you forever."

"Yeah, I guess," Buffy conceded softly. A beat passed. Buffy cleared her throat. "Well, like I said, I told my mom I would be right back, so..."

Spike nodded. "Right, of course."

Buffy started toward the room in which she had been staying. It was the room Spike and Drusilla had previously shared. Spike said he couldn't stay in that room – it was filled with too many bad memories. Dru bringing him fresh bodies to feed on while he was confined to that wheelchair being just one example. He'd taken lives in that room. So he slept in a room that had been occupied by one of Angel's minions instead.

Spike trailed after the girl. "So," he ventured. "Did you tell your mum everything about what you've been up to?"

Buffy glanced at the vampire hovering tensely in the doorway. He was making a visible effort to keep his eyes anywhere but on the bed. Buffy mistakenly assumed that it was because he had shared it with Drusilla, the woman he'd been in love with for over a century. But, in fact it, was because it was where he had taken his meals. Buffy felt an odd sensation at the thought that he still had feelings for his Sire. Was she jealous? She shook off that idea and concentrated on Spike's question.

"Did I tell her about you, you mean?" she clarified.

Spike nodded.

"Yeah," Buffy informed. "I told her."

"Bet that went over real well," he remarked wryly, "finding out her teenage daughter was living with some strange man."

"Actually, she didn't seem to have a real problem with that part," Buffy replied. "In fact,” her brow furrowed, “I think she kind of likes you."

Spike chuckled at the irony. "That's me. The bloke mums approve of," he joked.

Buffy chuckled herself. "Well, I doubt she'd give her blessing on our marriage or anything," she expanded. "But she doesn't mind my hanging around you."

"Well, that's good. I'm glad to hear it." Spike watched Buffy put the last of her things in her duffel bag and felt the hole her absence would leave. He didn't really want her to go. But he didn't really need her to stay, so asking her to do so would be selfish on his part. In his mind, he wagered he'd already taken up far too much of the girl's time. She shouldn't be spending all her time cooped up in this dusty old mansion babysitting him. So, Spike had pulled from his English roots and put on a stiff upper lip.

"Well, I guess that's it," Buffy declared, taking one more glance around the room to make sure she hadn't missed anything. She was a bit dejected to find that she hadn't. She found she was in no real hurry to leave. In fact, Buffy wanted to stall her departure for as long as possible.

When she and her mom had agreed that it was a good idea for her to come home, Buffy had just been so excited about the prospect of fixing things with Joyce that she hadn't really thought about the connotations of leaving Spike. It just hit her now as she was standing there in that room, with all her belongings in her duffel bag, that, if she had trouble sleeping, she couldn't just go down the hall and talk to Spike until she felt better. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling so well.

"Uh, so," Buffy began, "are you all set with blood and everything? Is there anything you need before I..."

"Go," Spike supplied with a small smile. He shook his head. "I think I'm good, thanks."

"Right. Good." Buffy hefted her duffle and shouldered it. "Then I should get out of here." She walked out of the room.

Spike escorted her out into the foyer. Buffy paused when they got there. She turned to Spike, wanting to say something more but not sure what. She felt the sudden urge to hug him goodbye but checked it.

No, that wouldn't be in any way awkward at all, she thought dryly.

Spike stood before the girl, looking into her beautiful hazel eyes. Those eyes, he thought, were the kind of beauty that should be written about in poetry. Spike startled. It was the first time he had thought about writing in a long time. In that moment, he had to fight with everything in him not to get down on his hands and knees and beg her not to go.

Feeling like a complete idiot, just standing here not saying anything, Buffy decided she should speak up. "Well, uh, see ya, I guess," she stated brilliantly. "I'll stop by and check in tomorrow sometime."

"All right," Spike said, before considering that it may not be good to see her so soon. Maybe it would be better to give him time to get used to being without her. "Actually, maybe you should hold off a few days. You know, give yourself time to readjust, hang out with your mates. I'll be fine."
Buffy was disappointed by his suggestion but she tried hard to conceal it. "Uh yeah, okay. Good idea."

"Oh." Spike had wanted her to argue. "Yeah, good. So I'll see ya, then."

"Right. See ya," Buffy returned. She was getting the impression that he couldn't wait for her to leave. She was right, but not for the reasons she thought. Spike wanted her to go because the longer she was around, the harder it was for him to let her leave.

Spike wanted her to stay with him. He had feelings for the girl that he had never experienced before. But that didn't mean she reciprocated them. She probably didn't, he supposed. So he wanted her to leave before he did something, like grab her and kiss her, and ended up looking like a fool. Worse than looking like a fool, if he did act on his feelings, Buffy might do more than leave his house. He could end up driving her out of his life forever. If that happened, Spike knew he wouldn't be able to stand it. Buffy had been the only thing that had kept him going since he got his soul. If she wasn't a part of his life, nothing would stop him from walking into the sun.

Buffy turned on her heels and exited the mansion.

Spike knew it was for the best, but that didn't make it any easier.


~*~*~*~


"See ya!" Buffy exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "That's all he said. ‘See ya.’ Can you believe that?" she had been ranting to Willow for an hour about her last conversation with Spike. Willow was over at Buffy's for a welcome back sleepover. The girls were up in Buffy's room, veg’ing out on junk food, and having much missed girl talk.

It was just like old times, Willow reflected. Her sitting on Buffy's bed, listening to her rant and rave about the undead man in her life. The only change was who the undead guy was.

"So what’s the problem exactly?" Willow asked. "Do you think he was being ungrateful or something?"

Buffy's miffed face scrunched up into a contemplative one. "Well, no. Not ungrateful, exactly. I mean, he said thank you for my helping him, and I'm pretty sure he was sincere. It's just..." she sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. Would it have killed him to be more upset?"

"Well probably not. Since he's already dead and all."

Buffy made a face at Willow's joke. "You know what I mean?"

"Actually, Buffy," Willow hedged, "I'm not sure that I do. I mean, why would you get so angry over Spike's reaction, or lack thereof, about your moving home? I mean unless..." Willow's eye's widened as she finished the thought in her head. "Oh my god! You have feelings for him, don't you?"

"What? No, that's ridiculous!" Buffy refuted, her voice screeching with disbelief. "You're ridiculous." After a beat, Buffy's mien of righteous indignation faltered. She looked down sheepishly and admitted, "Well, maybe, I like him a little.” Willow smirked. Buffy made a whimpering noise and flopped face down onto a pillow.

Willow’s smile drooped, her brow furrowing. “Okay,” she drawled, “it might just be my imagination, but I’m sensing that you liking Spike is a bad?”

Buffy whipped back up into a sitting position. “Of course it’s a bad!” She screeched. “How can I like him? How can I like anyone? How can I even think about liking anyone so soon after...” her voice caught.

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow murmured, getting it. She reached over and took her friends hand. “I’m so sorry. I can’t say that I know what you’re going through, because that would be impossible, but...” she sighed and paused. “You can’t punish yourself for what happened forever, Buffy. You’re alive, you have to move on.”

“You’re right,” Buffy agreed, “I know that I am going to have to get on with my life, eventually.” She shook her head. “I’m just not ready for anything like that, you know. But, even when I am ready to get on with my life, I don’t think that it would be a very good idea for me to get it on with Spike.”

Willow’s eyebrows rose.

Buffy’s grimaced. “Uh, that came out wrong.”

Willow stifled a smirk.

“Anyway, my point is,” Buffy plowed on, “the whole Spike thing is a little too history repeat-y for me. I’ve already been down that road. I know where it leads, I don’t want to go there again. There is a bad place to be. I don’t even want to end up anywhere near the neighborhood of there. I know better this time. Spike’s warning label is clearly visible. I can’t plead ignorance like with Angel.”

Willow brow furrowed. “Huh? What’re talking about?”

"Well, you know?" Buffy prodded. "The curse. The whole ‘if you're happy and you know it, you lose your soul’ thing. I would never risk that again."

Willow smacked her hand against her forehead. "Oh my god, Buffy I can't believe I forgot."

"Yeah, I can't either. Since the world almost ended because of it and all."

"No, no, that's not what I mean," Willow frantically went on, "it completely slipped my mind, I guess with everything that happened and all. You disappearing and then reappearing, I just didn't think about it-"

"Willow," Buffy interrupted. She knew how Willow could get when she had some important information to tell and Buffy figured she would be wise to cut Willow off before she got too hysterical. "Just calm down and tell me what you're talking about. What did you forget?"

Willow took a breath before going on. "The curse," she said. "I changed it."

Buffy’s brow crinkled. "What do you mean by you changed it?"

"Well, when we found it and realized that it might be possible to give Angel his soul back, I was really excited," Willow began. "I was so happy at the idea that I might be able to bring him back so the two of you could be together again."

Buffy smiled ruefully at her friend’s romanticism.

"But then I thought about it and I realized that it wouldn't be like that," she continued. "It wouldn't be the same 'cause now there was this thing between you; the curse. The two of you would never be able to really be together. So I got this idea, that maybe I could modify the curse. So, I did some research to see if there was a way to leave out the happiness clause. Turns out, there was."

There were a few beats of silence while this information sunk in. "You changed the curse," Buffy said slowly, "so you're saying that, hypothetically if Spike were to..."

"Get happy?" Willow supplied.

"Right, get happy," Buffy repeated. "If that happened, he wouldn't lose his soul?"

"Nope." Willow beamed. "It'd be safe and sound. Hypothetically."

"My god," Buffy said, amazed. "Willow, how did you do it?"

Willow shrugged, "It wasn't all that complicated really," she informed. "Just some rewording and stuff, some messing about with the incantation. I'm surprised Ms. Calendar didn't think to do it herself." She paused, her mood falling as she thought of her favorite teacher. "Maybe she would have if–" Willow slapped her hand over her mouth, thinking that she should just have her foot surgically implanted in her mouth to save time in future.

"If Angel hadn't killed her," Buffy finished the thought quietly.

Willow's eyes were wide, horrified with herself for making such a faux pas. Way to bring down the girl's night, she thought, wondering just how much a foot-in-mouth surgery might cost. "Oh, god Buffy I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said–"

"It's okay," Buffy cut her off. "You didn't do anything wrong, Will. Angel did kill Ms. Calendar. He killed her before she had a chance to do a lot of things, the least of which would have been performing the curse, modified or otherwise."

A saddened silence descended as the two girls reflected on the life that Jenny Calendar might have lived if it hadn't been brutally cut short. They wondered if she and Giles would have gotten married, have had children, but it was pointless to think of these things, it only made them feel worse.

"Angelus," Willow murmured, breaking the stillness.

"Hmm?"

"Angelus killed Ms. Calendar," she asserted, "not Angel."

"Right."

Another beat passed.

“I really thought I had a chance to do the spell in time.” Willow said suddenly, surprising Buffy. “I wanted to be able to bring him back. For you.”

“I know, Will.” Buffy said. “I only just now realised that I’m not sure if I ever thanked you for what you did. You risked your life to re-ensoul Angel. Twice. And all because you wanted me to have my honey back. Kind of redefines the whole friendship thing.”

“Well,” Willow ventured, “you know it wasn’t just for you. I mean, Angel was my friend and if the only two options are for me to make with the magicks or let my friends die, I tend to go for the non-death option.”

“Hmm,” Buffy remarked, “Well, as one of your friends I’m glad to hear that.”

Willow smiled. “I guess I just saw the whole you two being able to be together again, without the obstacles, would have been a bonus.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about the obstacle freeness.” Buffy hazarded. “There still would have been plenty of those to deal with.”

Willow thought about that. “Well, yeah I guess.”

“And you know something,” Buffy continued, contemplative, “I’m not really sure that even if you had been able to do the spell in time, that Angel and I ever would have been able to go back to the way things were. I mean so much, too much, had happened...” Her voice faded as she begun to do something she hadn’t allowed herself to do since the night she closed Acathala; she imagined if it had been Angel that was saved, and given his soul. And now with what Willow had told her about the alterations...

But, then what about Spike? Would he still have gotten his soul too? Or would he not be apart of her life at all?
She didn’t like that thought.

Would she really give up what she has now with Spike for another chance with Angel?

That thought wasn’t very pleasant either.

She shook her head trying to clear it. It was the same like with Ms. Calender; thinking about the what ifs didn’t do anybody any good.

“Buffy?” Came Willow’s gentle prodding voice.

“Sorry, Will,” she had to clear her throat against a lump that had started to swell, “I was just...”

“Thinking.”

“Yeah,” she gave a small smile, “thinking.” She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and took a breath.

Willow frowned. “Gosh, I’m sorry Buff. I didn’t mean to put such a damper on our inaugural girl’s night since...” Well though both knew what since.

Buffy waved her hand dismissively. "Ah, it’s okay." she assured. “It’s okay really. All the best chats end in tears.”

They shared a smile.

Buffy took another deep breath. “Okay,” she said, shifting gears, “I’m bored talking about me. Let’s talk about you and your guy," She waggled her eyebrows up and down. "How have things been progressing between you and Oz?"

Willow blushed and smiled. "They've...progressed," she replied, dipping her head down bashfully.

Buffy's eyes widened. "Oh my God, Willow, have you two – I mean, you haven't, you know have you–"

"Oh no!" Willow interjected. "Not even close. Well, not really. Closer than I've ever been before – not that that would take much – but not, you know, that close. But, we have had some pretty intense smoochies."

Buffy smiled wistfully. "Ah, yes, smoochies, I remember them well."

Willow laughed. "You talk like you'll never have them again. You will."

"Yeah, maybe," Buffy said, dubious. "But I don't think that will be anytime soon."

“Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be as long as you think.” Willow ventured. “I mean we already established the you liking Spike thing and now that you know about the curse...”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s just too soon, Will.” She declared. “For both of us, me and Spike. I’m not the only that’s lost someone. Spike was in love with Drusilla for over a century. I think he’s gonna need a little time to get over her killing herself. Plus, with all the other stuff he’s dealing with, having a soul...” she shook her head again. “It’s just not the right time. I just don't want to rush into something. Rushing leads to messing and I have enough messes right now.”

Willow smiled sympathetically. "I get it.”

Buffy sighed. “So for now I’m more than content to just live vicariously through you.” she said. “So, about these smoochies....”

 

~*~*~*~

She hadn't even been gone a whole day - only a few hours. A handful really, yet Spike already felt her absence greatly. The lofty mansion felt colder without her presence; a vast empty cavern, dark and dank with no life, no light. The Slayer had a glow about her, he had noticed, but he didn't realize just how bright it shone until she was gone and he was left with only darkness.

Spike had that awful, anxious feeling that he used to get whenever she had to leave to get blood and food. He wanted her to hurry up and come back, to calm the storm churning in his soul with her mere proximity. But she wasn't coming back in an hour.

What if she doesn't come back at all? Spike was horrified by the thought. He knew she had said, had promised, that she would come back, that she would check on him. Spike had no reason to doubt her word; he knew Buffy was loyal to it. But now that she was going back to her life, to her friends, and to her Slayer duties, Spike feared that she may soon forget about him. Or decide she no longer wanted the extra burden he represented.

He wouldn't blame her for it. But god, he hoped that didn't happen. Just the thought sent him down a worried spiral. Spike had to believe that Buffy would come back, or else he would go insane.

He tried to forget about it for now, tried to relax and toughen up. The way he was acting was like a child who had never spent the night on his own before. He found a bottle of whisky left over from before – he had drank the stuff often in the days of Angelus' reign, trying to drown out the sounds of the bastard taking his woman, of Drusilla crying out Angel’s name instead of Spike’s. The alcohol had done an adequate enough job of numbing him then and he hoped for a similar result now.

Spike took it to his bed and downed the whole thing. Soon enough, he passed out, only to wake soon later from one of his terrible nightmares of people screaming. People being subjected to the worst kind of torment imaginable, their faces bloodied and tear stained. His own face would soon appear, smiling in delight as the tortured begged for mercy or death. Spike jolted awake and leapt out of his bed, running down the hall to Buffy's room. He was halfway there before he remembered that she was gone. Still, he continued on anyway.

He entered the room and lay down on the bed. Not surprisingly, he was not overcome with vision of the lives he had drained on this very bed, just the picture of that sweet, vulnerable smile and kaleidoscope eyes. He buried his face into the pillow that Buffy had laid her golden head on; it still smelled like her. He breathed the blissful fragrance in deeply, becoming more drunk on it than he had the whisky as he soon drifted off to sleep. This time, Spike was not plagued by nightmares, but by dreams of the girl he had come to care for so much in such a sort time. Dreams made bittersweet, as Spike knew they would never come true.

TBC...

 

 

Spike thought he was dreaming, or that it was some trick of his mind, when he sensed the familiar presence in the air. Buffy’s presence. He thought it was wishful thinking - the same as it had been for the last two days since she walked out of the mansion. But then he heard her voice

“Spike?”

He bolted upright in his bed. The bed that had been Buffy’s. He had been spending a lot of time in it since her departure, wanting to feel close to her.

Spike was still trying to figure out if what he heard was really Buffy or just his imagination when her voice called again.

“Spike? Are you here?”

Hoping for the best Spike jumped out of bed and ran toward her voice.

And there she was, standing in the foyer. Buffy looked as though she was glowing under the light that filtered in through the cracks in the curtains. She looked so beautiful, and Spike was so overcome with joy to see her, that he thought he might cry. Spike wanted to run to her, to take her in his arms, and beg her to never leave him again. But he couldn’t do that. It would just end up causing pain, and not just because she was standing so close to the sun.

Spike tried to shake himself as best he could. “You came back,” he remarked.

“Of course I came back,” Buffy replied with a small smile. “I said I’d be back in couple days to make sure you were okay, remember?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I just thought maybe you would want to pal around with your mates a bit, catch up and that.”

“Well, yeah I do” said Buffy. “And I am doing that. But right now they’re in school, which kind of puts a crimp in the bonding time. I’m going to go visit them at lunch, though. I’m packing a picnic.”

“Why aren’t you?” Spike wondered. “In school, that is?”

“Well, remember how I told you how I got kicked out of both school and my house,” Spike nodded,“well Snyder isn’t being quite as welcoming as Mom was.”

 

“Little troll,” Spike muttered.

“Oh, so you’re acquainted,” Buffy quipped.

Spike cracked a grin. “I remember him from the parents’ night me and mine crashed last year.”

“Yep,” Buffy remarked, “I remember.”

“Right, well, he seemed like a right weasel from what little I could tell.”

“Very honed powers of observation you got there, you hit the weasel right on the head.”

Spike chuckled and Buffy smiled. It had only been two days, but they had both greatly missed each other’s company. Buffy wasn’t exactly fitting back into her old routine as seamlessly as she hoped she would and she wasn’t feeling quite as comfortable with her friends as she did with Spike.

They shared a look and a weighted silence descended, giving them both the time to tell the other how they felt. Instead, the unsaid words filled the air until it became uncomfortably crowded. They both lost the staring contest, looking away at the same time.

“So, um, the reason I came here...” Buffy ventured.

“Oh, right.” Spike said, reminding himself this wasn’t a social call. She was only here to make sure he wasn’t starving.”Well, I still got a good amount of blood stocked up, pet,” Spike informed her casually.

“Oh, that’s good. But that’s not what I was talking about,” Buffy paused, looking antsy.

Spike regarded her curiously, head tilted to the side, left eyebrow hitched.

“Actually, um, I came here because,” she licked her lips and took a breath, “well, you see the thing is, uh, there’s this thing.”

The corner of Spike’s lip quirked up. He’d never seen the Slayer so nervous before, not even during the times when he was trying to kill her. He knew it had to be something important for it to have flustered her so.

“Slayer,” Spike prodded. Buffy took her eyes away from her wringing hands and looked up at him.“Whatever it is, pet, you can tell me. Just say it.”

You don’t have to worry about the curse anymore, your soul is secure.

That’s what she had come here intending to say. But when she looked into his eyes, those damn beautiful eyes of his that always provoked the oddest sensation inside of her, her voice caught in her throat. Those eyes would be her downfall. Spike’s soul might be safe. But was she? Everything Buffy had said to Willow last night was true; it was too soon for either of them to get involved with anyone. But, looking into his eyes, she didn’t care.

Buffy wasn’t sure if sheer will alone would be enough to stop her from giving in to what she wanted. But she did know that, as long as Spike thought there was any danger of losing his new soul, he wouldn’t let anything happen. Buffy felt sick with herself. She knew it was wrong to keep the truth from Spike, yet that was what she was going to do.

Just for a while, she told herself. I’ll tell him everything soon. I just need more time to get my feelings in order.

“Buffy?” Spike’s voice wrenched her from her devious musings. He was looking at her expectantly, still waiting for what she had to say. She had to tell him something, something that she had specifically intended to keep to herself. “Um, it’s my mom,” she blurted. “She wants me to invite you to dinner on Friday.”

“Oh,” Spike remarked, taken aback. He was surprised at the invitation, but more surprised that that was all Buffy had to say. From the way she was acting, he had thought it would have been something a lot more explosive than that. “Uh, well...”

“You can totally say no if you want,” Buffy hastened. “If it’s too much for you, just now.”

“No,” Spike said.

Buffy looked relieved. “Okay, I’ll just tell my mom you’re not up to it. She’ll understand.”

“No,” he repeated, shaking his head, “I meant no, it’s not too much. I’d love to come to dinner.”

“You would?” Buffy asked, dumbfounded.

“Sure, unless you don’t want me to.”

“No! I mean, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want you to?”

“Okay,” Spike said. “Good then.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed, “great.” Her smile belied her favourable words.

 ~*~*~*~

 

Buffy glanced over to the vampire walking by her side, looking for any signs of anxiety. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" she asked Spike. "If you're not, we can turn around and go back to the mansion, no big deal."

Spike smirked; he knew Buffy was more agitated about where they were headed than the fact that this was his first time venturing passed Crawford Street. "I'm doin' all right Slayer," he assured, "appreciate the concern though."

"Are you really sure? I would understand if this was too much for you to handle right now."

"Like I said, I'm all right."

Buffy forced a smile. "All right then, that's good," she said.

This is gonna be bad, she thought, as they turned the corner onto Revello Drive.

"Well, here we are," she announced as they mounted the steps to her house. "There's still time for us to go back if you want." There was a note of pleading in her voice.

"Buffy," Spike ventured slowly, "just open the door."

Buffy sighed. "Oh, all right," she grumbled, before taking a deep breath and doing as she was instructed.

"Mom!" she called, once through the door. "We're here!"

 

~*~*~*~

 

"This is delicious Joyce," Spike complemented when the three of them had sat at the dining room table for dinner.

Joyce smiled at him. "Thank you," she said. "I'm glad you like it. I got the recipe from my friend Pat – she takes a Spanish cooking class – but I'm afraid I improvised a bit by adding more red pepper than was called for. I hope it's not too spicy."

"Oh, not for me, I love a bit of heat," Spike assured. "Too spicy is better than too bland."

"I feel the same way," Joyce remarked. "Though I should probably avoid spice more than I do; indigestion."

"Ah well, that's one of the virtues of being technically dead; if your heart's not beatin', you can't get heartburn."

Buffy stiffened, not sure how her mother would react to Spike’s sense of humor; she was, after all, still getting used to the whole vampires being real thing. But Buffy was able to relax a bit when her mom chuckled. Okay, so far not so bad. Maybe this isn't going to end up being the disaster I thought it was going to be.

She was starting to feel like she could finally let out the breath she had been holding since she and Spike had walked through the door.

"So, Spike," Joyce ventured, "that's a very unusual name. How did you come about it?"

Buffy's eyes widened. Oh crap!

"Mom," she hissed. Joyce looked at her questioningly and Buffy jerked her head pointedly back and forth.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Joyce said, putting her fingertips to her lips, "that must be one of the sore subjects I'm not supposed to bring up." She looked to Buffy. "Though, I didn't remember it from your list, dear."

"Guess I wasn't as thorough as I thought," Buffy grumbled.

"I'm sorry Spike," Joyce told him.

Spike waved off the apology. "Don't worry about it. 's no big deal, really. I got the name doing one of the many horrible things I regret doing is all."

Joyce's brow knitted, her interest piqued. "Well, if the name harbors such bad memories for you, then why don't you go back to...what was your name before?"

"Uh, William," Spike answered, a bit sheepishly.

"William," Joyce repeated with a smile. "That's a lovely name. Why not use it?"

Spike cleared his throat. "Well, I would, but that name doesn't exactly denote bright and happy feelings either." He remembered the tittering of his peers as they referred to him as "William the bloody" because of his bloody awful poetry. Spike had killed most of those people after he was turned but even after over a century of time passing, those words still smarted. He, however, didn't relate any of this to the Summers ladies.

"I've been Spike for a long time," he did say. "It's just a name, but it's mine, good or bad."

Joyce gave him a motherly smile and he felt a pang for his own long since dead mother. Joyce reminded him a bit of his own mum; they had a same sort of quality about them. The thought made him feel an emotion so intense that it caused heat to build behind his eyes.

He blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears. Ah hell, he thought. Start blubbering at the dinner table, that outta leave a good impression.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Huh, saved by the bell, Spike thought sardonically as the sound pulled the others’ attention from him long enough so that he could discreetly sniff back his tears.

Buffy's brow scrunched and she looked to her mom, "Are you expecting someone?"

"Well," Joyce ventured with a hint of trepidation, "I sort of invited over your friends for a little welcome back get together."

"Mom!" Buffy cried. "How could you do that without telling me? And on the night Spike's over! I told you he wasn't comfortable being around many people yet!"

"It's fine, Buffy," Spike assured, but the girl didn't seem to hear him.

"Why would you think it's a good idea to just spring this on me without warning?"

"I'm sorry," her mother said a bit huffily. "I just thought it would be a nice surprise." She turned to Spike her voice softening. "I'm sorry Spike if it's going to make you uncomfortable..."

"It's fine really," he said again, "no problem."

"See?" Joyce said turning a raised eyebrow to Buffy. "He says it's fine."

"Of course, he's going to say it's fine to your face, he's being polite!"

The doorbell chimed again. Neither of the house’s residents made a move, still glaring icily each other.

"Would you ladies like me to get that?" Spike offered.

"No," said Buffy, throwing down her napkin, "I'll get it." She made a display of pushing her chair back, scraping it loudly against the floor, and then kicking it back under the table, before stomping off to the door.

Joyce sighed. "I really didn't think this would be such a big deal," she said to Spike.

Spike gave her a compassionate look. "She didn't mean it like that," he appeased. "She's just been under a lot of stress. I haven't been as stable as you’ve see me here tonight, she's probably just worried that too much at once will send me over the deep end again. I doubt she wants the hassle of havin' to wrangle me out of it a second time; the first time was tough enough."

Joyce smiled softly at him; she reached over and patted his hand. "I don't think she minded it one bit."

Spike again felt the prickling heat behind his eyes, Damn it all to hell! This bloody soul 's turnin' me into a weepin' idiot. Spike had never been a stranger to tears – nor was he ashamed to show emotion– but the rivers that had been flowing from his eyes since he was cursed was just ridiculous.

"Oh, dear," Joyce remarked, noticing the watering in his eyes. "I knew I used too much red pepper." She reached for Spike's glass and filled it with more wine. "Here, this'll help."

Spike smiled and gulped down the wine. He was grateful to Joyce, not just for the drink, but for her discretion. He suspected she knew that it wasn't the spices that were making him tear up. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

She gave him that maternal look again. "Not at all."

"Uh, Mom!" Buffy cried from the foyer.

Joyce's brow knitted in concern at her daughter’s distressed tone as she got up from her seat and went to the door. Spike followed. When they got there, they saw Buffy standing against the wall a helpless look on her face as a deluge of people streamed through the door.

"Is this what you meant by little get together?"

 

~*~*~*~

"You're kind of takin' that whole 'it's my party and I'll cry if I want to' thing a bit too seriously there, eh pet?" Spike remarked after finding Buffy out on the back porch, her head in her hands.

Buffy lifted her head and gave Spike a wry look, "That is so not my party. I don't even know most of those people, hell most of them don't know who I am!" She let out frustrated sigh, shaking her head. "I can't believe my mom did this."

"Well, pet, in all fairness to your mum, I don't think this is exactly what she planned. I suspect your mates had some hand in spreadin' the word."

"That doesn't really make it any better. It just proves that they don't get it either. I don't think I can do this," she said, eyes starting to water, "it's too much I can't handle it."

"Hey," Spike tried to soothe, "if it's really that bad for you, I can go in there and tell 'em to piss off. I can go all vamp face, that'll get 'em scurryin'," he kidded.

"I'm not talking about the party, Spike," Buffy explained miserably. "I meant all of it: me coming home, trying to just slip back into my old life like nothing ever happened. I'm just not ready. I don't know if I ever will be."

Spike would have love nothing more than for Buffy to come back to the mansion with him, so that things could go back to being just the two of them. But he knew that the best thing for Buffy was to put back the pieces of her life that had shattered the moment she plunged that sword into his grandsire's gut.

"Listen, love," Spike reached up to put a hand on Buffy's shoulder, but let it hover their timorously for a moment– he wasn't sure if it was smart to touch her– finally, though, he decided to lay it down. Spike could feel the heat of her skin through her dress, it seeped into him, filled him up, and he almost got lost in the sensation. He shook himself swiftly, remembering that he was supposed to be comforting her.

"It's gonna take time," he soothed "Your mum, your friends, they all mean well, but they can't possibly understand what it is that you went through, what you lost."

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "But you can. You lost Drusilla."

At the mention of his former love, Spike's hand recoiled from Buffy's back. She instantly regretted bringing up the vampire; she hated losing his touch.

Spike cleared his throat, shifting his body to face forward. "Yeah, I did lose Dru," he acknowledged, "but dying was her choice, there was nothing I could've done to stop her, even if I hadn't been chained up. I likely would have just stood and held her hand, went with her."

Buffy's eyes snapped to him, filled with panic.

"No need to worry, love," he assured. "I'm over that bit now." Spike could see the tension visibly drain from the Slayer's shoulders. "But, has hard as it was for me to sit back and watch as Dru–" his voice hitched, he shook his head and tried again. "As hard as it was for me to sit by and watch...I could never imagine what it must be like to do what you had to do. You had to take the life of the person you loved."

"The man I killed was not the one I loved," Buffy corrected, her voice low and fierce.

"No matter what Angel turned into, you were still in love with him when you put that sword in 'im. I could see that clear as day on your face afterward."

Buffy didn't say anything, she just kept looking forward, her mouth set in a firm line.

"You loved him and you killed him," Spike went on. "To protect the lives of a billion people you don't even know. That kind of sacrifice," he shook his head, "I could never be strong enough to make that kind of sacrifice. I would've said to hell with the world, never would've given up what I loved."

"Well then," Buffy huffed, "maybe I just didn't love Angel as much as you loved Dru."

Spike sighed. Damn it, she thinks I'm insultin' her.

"That's not what I meant," he backpedaled. "What I was sayin' was that it takes a truly extraordinary being to be that selfless and that's what you are Slayer. Extraordinary. You're the most bloody amazin' person I've ever met. And that's sayin' somethin' 'cause I've been around awhile."

Buffy's throat was tight with tears again, but they were no longer ones of sadness or frustration. Buffy didn't see herself as very amazing – and if anybody else would have said those things to her, she might of just brushed them off – but Spike, the utter sincerity in his voice, she almost did feel pretty damn extraordinary.

Buffy swallowed down the lump in her throat so she could speak. "Thank you."

Spike smiled at her, putting his hand on her cheek and brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. "No need to thank me. I'm just speakin' the truth is all."

Buffy put her hand over the one that was caressing her face, she leaned into it, amazed by how smooth his palm was – she would have expected that over a century of fighting would have left it rough and callused. Must have something to do with the vamp healing.

Spike licked his lips against a suddenly dry mouth. He couldn't believe that he was touching Buffy in such an intimate way and, more shocking, that she was welcoming it. He brushed his thumb along her cheek; her skin was so soft. He wanted to touch every inch of it. Spike slid his thumb down and traced the outline of her lips and they parted slightly. He could feel the heat of her breath and it surged straight down to his core.

Buffy closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her, as Spike's fingertips brushed along her jaw line. She tilted her head back as they slipped down the slope of her neck. Spike's eyes were transfixed on her chest as it heaved up and down in a rapid rhythm. He trailed his fingers along her collarbone, unconsciously sliding his body closer to hers. His fingers were just inches from the delicate swell of her cleavage that was peeking out enticingly of the top of her dress. Spike slowly let his hand fall lower; he could feel the steady, quick beat of Buffy's heart beneath his touch. The heel of his palm brushed the top of her breast. Buffy opened her eyes and looked into Spike's sterling blue orbs. He leaned toward her, she tipped her head forward, and then... a supposedly dead cat jumped in between them.

And all hell broke loose.

"So, did he pass the test?" Buffy enquired when she and Giles were in his office after the first official Scoobie meeting since her return.

 

"Hmm?" Giles replied, feigning ignorance.

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Come on, Giles, you honestly think I don't know why you called this meeting? It's not like we have any urgent, evil matters to get to. The Hellmouth hasn't exactly been acting all that Hellmouthy of late. Well, zombie party crashers aside," she amended. "But we already figured that one out. The only reason you called this meeting was so you could check out Spike."

 

"Th-that is entirely untrue," Giles insisted, whipping off his glasses with indignation. "Just because we don't happen to be facing any obvious dangers at the moment doesn't mean we should become slack in our routine. I think we have missed enough meetings over the last few weeks. And as for my telling you to invite Spike along, well that was just good manners, an attempt in making him feel welcome."

 

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, her eyebrows hitched slightly. A small smirk on her lips let Giles know she wasn't buying it.

 

Giles clucked his tongue and sighed. "Oh all right," he conceded. "Yes, I did ask you to bring Spike here under false pretenses. But I hardly think you can fault me for wanting to make sure that the situation with him is...safe."

 

"What, did you think there was a possibility that he's been faking having a soul?" She cocked her hip  petulantly. "Come on, if that were the case then he's had plenty of opportunities to kill me by now." Opportunities meaning the times she allowed herself to lay vulnerable, sleeping beside him in his bed. Of course, this was not information that Buffy had shared with her Watcher. She loved Giles; she didn't want to see his head explode.

 

Buffy sighed. "So is everything copacetic? Has Spike convinced you of his soulfulness?"

 

Giles cleared his throat and placed his glasses on his face. "Yes," he said. "I have no doubt that his soul is, indeed, intact."

 

"Okay," Buffy drawled, re-crossing her arms over her chest. "If you're so convinced then what's with that big ‘but' you left hanging in the air there?" she asked in an accusatory manner.

 

"But," Giles began, giving something between a grimace and a smirk at how well his Slayer was able to read his behavior. "Seeing the two of you here together - seeing the way Spike kept looking at you - it is clear that you've bonded, become attached to one another. So I would be remiss if I didn't bring up the risk..."

 

"Argh!" Buffy growled in frustration. "Not you too. It's bad enough getting this crap from Xander, now you're jumping on the band wagon?" She sighed. "Okay, yes. I admit that Spike and I have become...attached. But we're just friends, nothing more."

 

"That may be true, that you are just friends...for now," Giles added, "but in time that could change, as the two of you grow closer..."

 

"Giles," Buffy interrupted, "trust me here. Spike and I are not going to be getting that close any time in the near future. Neither of us is ready for that kind of thing." -

 

"Yes, but eventually-"

 

"Eventually, it won't be a problem," Buffy cut him off again. She took a breath before going on. "Willow told me that she-"

 

"Altered the curse," Giles finished.

 

Buffy brow furrowed. "Yeah. She told you?"

 

"Yes," Giles said solemnly, taking off his glasses once again and pinching the bridge of his nose. "She did."

 

"Okay," Buffy said slowly. "So if you know about there not being a risk to Spike's soul anymore then why are you giving me the third degree?"

 

"Because I am not entirely convinced that the threat to his soul is gone!" Giles burst out, speaking with a bit more passion than he had intended.

 

His manner surprised Buffy and she flinched.

 

Giles sighed. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to lash out at you," he apologized softly. "I'm rather upset by how rash Willow was in telling you about her putative adjustment to the curse."

 

"What do you mean ‘putative adjustment'?" Buffy questioned. "Are you saying that she didn't actually change the curse?" Buffy's chest clenched as she asked the question. She had taken Willow at her word, never considering that whatever she had done to the curse hadn't worked, and, maybe worse, she  had let herself be open to the possibility that maybe, someday...

 

"I'm not suggesting that it's impossible that the alterations she made were effective," Giles began. "But, there is always the chance for error when it comes to magick, especially when one is as green in the Dark Arts as Willow - Spike receiving his soul is proof of that. So it would be in everyone's best interest to be cautious. To refrain from rushing into...anything."

 

"Oh?" Buffy huffed. "Did you really think that I was going to just jump into to bed with Spike because I thought he might not lose his soul if we had sex? Geez, Giles, what kind of a slut do you think I am?"

 

"I am not putting your virtue into question, Buffy," Giles stressed wearily. "I'm just making sure that you are aware of the risk that may still be in existence. I'm checking into the matter, looking to see if what Willow did might have actually worked. But it may take some time before I have any definitive answers. After all, gypsy magick is a very esoteric art; the people are not readily forthcoming with outsiders about their ways. Though, I do have a few contacts that I am waiting to hear back from on the subject. But until we are able to ascertain that Spike's soul is indeed secure, we must remain cautious. You'll want to inform him about this, remind him of the dangers..."

 

"I won't have to remind him of anything," Buffy replied.

 

"Buffy..." Giles began thinking she was being recalcitrant. "He should be informed about the risk he still faces if-"

 

"No," Buffy cut him off, shaking her head. "I mean, I don't have to tell him that there's a chance Willow's alteration didn't work because I still haven't told him about it in the first place."

 

"You haven't?" Giles asked, brow creasing. "Why not?"

 

Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I wasn't really sure how to bring it up, I guess. I mean it is kind of an awkward topic. What was I supposed to say? 'Oh hey, your soul's safe, so you can go out and get happy as much as you want'?"

 

Giles cleared his throat, uncomfortable discussing such matters with his charge. "Yes, quite. I see your point."

 

"And hey! You said that Willow was being rash by blurting out the news the way she did. So my not telling Spike right away was a good, right?"

 

"Indeed," Giles agreed. "I could only imagine what a jolt it would be to Spike. To believe he had the opportunity to one day be able to be completely happy, just to have it ripped away... Yes I believe it was very prudent of you to keep the matter under wraps."

 

It was true, what  Giles said. It would be terrible to be given hope like that, only then to have it taken away. Buffy tried to let the knowledge assuage the icky guilt she still felt for keeping the secret from Spike. Her reasons for doing so were hardly charitable. She wanted to make sure that there was a solid boundary to keep her from rushing into something with Spike. The deception was only made worse with Buffy presuming that the feelings she was starting to feel for Spike were reciprocated.

 

I mean who's to say that he would even want to be with me, anyway? She had thought that the two of them had had a moment right before that darn zombie cat jumped out at them, but how could she know for sure? It was a stressful night. What if she had just been projecting her own desires onto him?

 

"Buffy?" Giles voice cut through her musings.

 

"Hmm? Sorry, what?"

 

"Are you all right?"

 

"Fine!" she assured, pasting on a bright smile. "Actually," she said after a pause, "you know, I was just wondering about something."

 

"Yes?" Giles asked attentively.

 

"Earlier, you said that Spike kept looking at me. How would you describe the looks exactly?"

 

Giles' shoulders slumped wearily, he sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

 

~*~*~*~

Spike, Willow, and Xander were all waiting, albeit uncomfortably, out front of the school while Buffy talked with Giles. They stood on the steps of the entrance in awkward silence. Xander kept eyeing Spike warily and Spike, looking for some way to occupy himself, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his jacket. He shook one out and popped it between his teeth before he took out his lighter and flicked it open.

 

"Those things'll kill ya, you know?" Xander remarked.

 

Spike gave him a raised eyebrow as he look over the small flame.

 

Xander shrank back sheepishly. "Oh, right."

 

Silence.

 

"So, Spike," Willow began brightly. "I like your jacket, it's different. Is it new?"

 

Spike looked down at the denim jacket that he was wearing in place of his usual black duster. "Yeah, the Slayer got it for me."

 

Willow nodded. "That makes sense; Buffy's always had great taste in clothes."

 

A light derisive snort sounded from Xander. If only that good taste extended to men.

 

As if she knew what he was thinking, Willow gave him a kick in the shin. When he looked up at her in confusion, she just glared at him.

 

"So," Willow turned back to Spike, beaming, "Buffy mentioned something about how you used to be in a band?"

 

"That's right," Spike confirmed, blowing out a plume of smoke skyward.

 

"I only bring it up because Oz - that's my boyfriend - he's a musician; he plays bass."

 

Spike nodded, a tight, polite smile on his lips.

 

"Also, he's a werewolf."

 

At that, Spike's brow rose slightly. He wouldn't have pegged that the little moppet would be the sort to go for the big, hairy beasties.

 

They all turned as the doors to the school swung open and Buffy sauntered out, a collective sigh of relief expelling from them all.

 

"So, what's the verdict?" Spike asked, tossing down his cigarette butt and stubbing it out. "The old man satisfied that I'm all house broken?"

 

Buffy smiled, she should have known that he wouldn't have been fooled by Giles' pretense. "Yeah, I think so."

 

"Good."

 

The pair looked at each other, smiling for a beat.

 

Xander's eyes slid between them, not liking what he was sensing. "So," he interrupted, "Will and I are Bronze bound. What do you say, Buff, you down?"

 

Buffy smiled, ready to accept, but then glanced in Spike's direction. He looked weary and ready to leave. She figured he'd had enough for the night. "Oh, um, I don't know," she stalled.

 

"You're welcome to join us too, Spike," Willow added, sending Xander a challenging glare. "My boyfriend's band is playing tonight."

 

Spike looked at Buffy. She was trying to hide her eagerness, but Spike could see it in her eyes; she really wanted to go. However, he knew she wouldn't without him. So if it was going to make the girl happy, he figured that he could endure a few more hours of this social interaction. "A werewolf playin' bass," Spike said, "wouldn't want to miss that." Seeing the smile on Buffy's face, he knew he had made the right choice.

 

~*~*~*~

 

"So what do you think?" Buffy asked Spike as they sat on one of the loveseats at the Bronze, watching the band. Willow was by the side of the stage, groupie style, gazing up at Oz playing his bass and bobbing along to the music. Xander was in line for drinks, a long wait, judging by how crowded the place was tonight. Dingoes Ate My Baby was getting pretty popular.

 

"'s not bad," Spike replied over the music. "They don't seem to know very many chords, though."

 

"Well, why don't you go up there and show them a thing or two?" she teased. Ever since finding out about his musical background, Buffy had often ribbed him about it.

 

One corner of Spike's mouth quirked up. "Think I'll pass on that."

 

Buffy smiled and looked back to the stage, nodding her head in time with the beat.

 

Spike caught the sight of a young man with brown hair and an artless smile coming their way. He had his eyes on Buffy.

 

"Hey, Buffy," the boy greeted.

 

Buffy looked up and smiled, "Oh, Scott, hey. How's it goin'?"

 

Scott's smile widened. "It's going well, thanks. How are you?"

 

"Oh, good," Buffy answered amiably.

 

"That's good," he replied. "I'm glad to hear it."

 

Spike eyebrow was hitched, his cheeks sucked in as he looked from the Slayer to the doe-eyed boy drooling down at her. For the first time in weeks, he felt the demon stirring in him. Spike felt a growl build in his chest, trying to make its way up his throat. He coughed to cover it.

 

"Well, I'm doin' quite all right m‘self," Spike interjected. "Not that anyone's carin' to ask."

 

Buffy felt her cheeks begin to burn. She let out a small, sheepish laugh. "Uh, Spike this is Scott Hope, we go to school together. Scott this is Spike... uh..." Buffy wasn't used to introducing Spike to people, she wasn't sure how to handle the surname issue. What is it with vampires and pop stars not having last names, anyway?'

 

"Pratt," Spike said, ending Buffy's awkward stammering. "I'm Spike Pratt."

 

"Pratt? Really?" Buffy asked Spike with a twinge of amusement.

 

"Yes, really," Spike returned in an and what the hell is wrong with that? tone.

 

"Pratt," Buffy repeated, suppressing a smirk."I like it."

 

Spike's eyes narrowed at her.

 

"So," Scott broke in, reminding the pair of his presence. "How do you two know each other?"

 

Buffy had never given thought to a cover story for her association with Spike, so she just said the first thing that popped into her head. "Giles!"

 

Both men looked surprised by the outburst; she had been a bit too emphatic with her declaration. Buffy shrugged. He was the only other British person she knew, after all; it kind of made sense.

 

She ducked down a bit sheepishly. Clearing her throat, she elaborated, "Um, Giles introduced us. Spike's his...nephew! Yeah, that's right, he's Giles' nephew who's visiting from England." Buffy beamed as she finished her story, proud of her quick thinking.

 

Spike looked at her sideways, being roped in with the likes of stuck up Watchers wasn't exactly ideal to him. Nevertheless, he backed Buffy up.

 

"That's right. 'm here visiting me dear ol' Uncle Rupes."

 

"Oh," Scott nodded, "so the two of you aren't like, dating, then?"

 

"Oh no, no, not at all. We're just...friends." Her answer was a bit too emphatic. But, after all, she was used to arguing the nature of their relationship to everyone. It was automatic.

 

Right. Just friends, Spike thought, his jaw tensing. By the insistent way Buffy made the declaration it was clear that that's all she'd ever considered being with him.

 

Oh stop your poutin' you bloody Nancy, said the other side of his brain. It's not like you've made any moves to take it beyond that. So put up or shut up. It could be worse; you could have nothin' with her at all.

 

But would that really be worse? Spike had to wonder for a moment. If he wasn't apart of Buffy's life, he wouldn't have to sit here and watch while she got hit on by the likes of Scott Hopeless.

 

"So," the wanker ventured, "it wouldn't be wrong of me, then, to ask you to dance?"

 

"Oh, I'd loved to mate," Spike joked, "but I'm afraid I've got two left feet."

 

Scott chuckled good-naturedly, but clearly uncomfortable, not to mention, a bit intimidated.

 

"So, Buffy," Scott clarified, "what about you? Would you care to dance?"

 

Buffy opened her mouth to politely refuse, but Spike beat her to the punch. "Go ahead" he told her..

 

Buffy whipped her head around to look at him, her face one of utter shock. "Huh?"

 

Spike shrugged, "Go on, dance with the lad."

 

Buffy's mouth hung open. She couldn't believe Spike was doing this. He didn't care about Buffy dancing with another guy, he, in fact, wanted her to. It stung. It also royally pissed her off.

 

"Fine," she said, getting to her feet. She turned to Scott and smiled at him. "I'd love to dance with you."

 

Scott grinned. "Great!" He offered her his elbow. "Shall we?"

 

Buffy looped her hand through his arm and let him lead her off to the dance floor.

 

"Have fun!" Spike called after them, mentally kicking himself.

 

What the bleedin' hell were you thinkin'? You encouraged her to go off with another bloke! You really are a soddin' moron!

 

Buffy's got her own mind, he argued with himself. She's plenty capable of makin' it up all on her own without my help. She didn't have to go off with him if she didn't want to.

 

Spike sank down further into the love seat flexing his jaw muscle.

 

Are you completely daft? She's only out there with that idiot to make you jealous.

 

But Spike wasn't so sure that that was Buffy's game, though if it was, it was definitely working. Spike watched the two of them out there. They stood so close to each other, so close that Scott's hands were on Buffy's waist.

 

He has no right to put his hands on her, his outraged mind cried.

 

Spike's blood was beginning to boil. He couldn't stand this. He could feel the familiar burning under his skin; he was on the verge of vamping out. Spike rubbed his hands over his face, trying to suppress the urge. He took in big unnecessary breaths, trying to calm down. It wasn't working. He couldn't calm down, what with seeing as how Scott's hands were slipping lower, going to Buffy's hips, hovering just above her...

 

Spike surged to his feet, not even conscious of the gesture, instinct taking over. He just knew that he had to do something.

 

He pushed through the crowd of writhing hormone receptacles, heedless of the Heys and watch were you're goings. He couldn't hear anything but his blood rushing in his ears. Spike stopped when he came up behind Scott, by then he was seething with anger. He flexed his hands into fists. The picture of picking the boy up by the scruff of his neck and chucking him across the room flitted through his mind. Slowly, Spike's hand crept up.

 

Buffy's eyes widened when she saw Spike standing over Scott's shoulder, his eyes blazing blue flames of rage.

 

Uh oh. Oh no.

 

Buffy watched in horror as Spike's hand rose. She was just about to cry out but was stunned silent when, instead of smacking Scott across the head, Spike simply used his index finger to tap the teenager on the shoulder.

 

Scott whirled around. "May I cut in?" Spike asked, his eyes locked on Buffy.

 

"I thought you didn't want to dance," Buffy replied dubiously.

 

"Yeah well, I changed my mind," Spike retorted. "It's my prerogative."

 

Scott looked between the pair uneasily. "Um, Buffy, is it okay with you?"

 

Buffy looked at Spike a moment, deliberating. "Yeah," she concluded, "it's fine."

 

"Oh," Scott said disappointedly. "Um, okay then." He stepped out of the way and Spike immediately slid in to take the boy's place. Scott remained standing at the side for a moment, waiting for some recognition, maybe a goodbye. But the way Spike and Buffy's eyes were fixed on each other it was obvious that, to them, he was already gone. "Uh, I guess I'll see you around, Buffy."

 

"Uh-huh," the Slayer replied absently. After a beat, Scott realized that that was as good as he was going to get from her and, with a defeated sigh, turned and slogged away.

 

Spike cleared his throat after a moment, before slowly reaching out his hands and putting them on the side of Buffy's hips. It was a good thing he didn't need to breath because being so close to Buffy, touching her, he found that he couldn't. She took a step toward him, shortening the already small gap between their bodies. They were a hair's breadth from being pressed together.

 

 

The two just stood there for a moment, unsure, avoiding each other's eyes. The only other times that they had been this close were during those nights that they never talked about, when Spike had his nightmares. It had been awhile since he had needed her to hold him, though, and now the contact felt somehow foreign but familiar all the same.

 

 

Taking the initiative, Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike's shoulders. He responded by placing his hands on her waist.

 

Then they let the rhythm of the music guide them and began to sway.

 

Spike absently recalled the first time he had seen the Slayer. She had been dancing then as well. He remembered being entranced by her movements, even though he was supposed to be observing his quarry, he had had  to admit to how beautiful she was. Even then, he had felt a certain desire for her. But if he had thought that she was enticing from a distance, it didn't even compare to the effect she was having on him now that he was so close to her.

 

Her hips were brushing against his, stroking the fire within him. Buffy stepped away from him and spun in a circle as the tempo of the music sped up. She lifted her arms above her head, her perfect, pert breasts bounced slightly under the flimsy silk fabric of her top. The way her face looked, her eyes closed as she rocked her head side to side and bit her bottom lip. He wanted to suck that lip into his own mouth and nibble on it. She turned around toward the stage, her back now to Spike. His eyes slid down to her ass. It was one of her best features - not that they weren't all great -- but she had a very nice bum. It was firm -- he knew from having 'accidently' gotten a feel of it during one of their many battles.

 

Bet you could bounce a quarter off it, no problem. It was nice and round, like a peach. Bet it tastes as sweet as one, too. He could imagine sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

 

Buffy backed up until she was pressed against him. Spike put his hands on the side of her hips and moved his with hers. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her. He could feel all the blood in his body surging south. Spike had always been a very sexual being and it had been months since he had engaged in any kind of extracurricular activity. In over a hundred years, he had never abstained for more than a day or two. He was pent up with sexual energy and he wanted Buffy. But the truth was that he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her and that was all the time, not just when she was rubbing that fantastic backside of hers dangerously close to Spike Jr. -- who had always, up until recently, been the one calling the shots. But Spike knew one thing for certain: he was in trouble.

 

Spike ripped his hands away from Buffy and took a big step back, raking a hand through his hair.

 

Buffy whipped around, her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothin'," Spike said, a bit too harshly. He sighed and softened his tone. "I'm just desperate for a fag is all. I'm gonna step out for tick." He turned and started to retreat.

 

Buffy jogged after him. "I'll come with you."

 

Spike wheeled on her, stopping her in her tracks. "You don't ‘ave to hover over me every second, Slayer. I'm perfectly capable of goin' out for a smoke by myself."

 

Buffy blinked, taken aback. "I know. I just-"

 

"It's fine," Spike interrupted. "I'll be back in mo'. You stay here and have fun, yeah?" Without waiting for a response, he turned and stalked out of the club.

 

TBC...

Spike's hands were shaking as he fumbled with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He didn't know if he could do this; he wasn't used to having to rein in his desires. As a vampire, he had gotten used to slaking his cravings on a whim, whenever he wanted. But now, with his shiny new soul as a deterrent, he no longer leapt before looking. He now thought about the consequences that his actions might have. But having a soul didn't take away the desire. Spike was still plagued with the same yearnings he'd always had; for blood, sex, and, now most of all, for Buffy.

His soul was really just a glorified moral compass. It could show him the right way, but as far as getting there, he'd have to do that all himself.

Spike pulled a cigarette from the pack with his teeth and lit up. He took in a long drag, closing his eyes as the smoke filled his useless lungs.

If you're not more careful you're gonna wind up losing everything, he berated himself.  He knew that one moment of happiness with Buffy was what had led to Angel losing his soul - something Spike didn't get at the time, but now understood all too well - and he didn't want to risk that for himself. He couldn't go back to being a killer, not after all the pain he'd already caused. But the prospect of losing his soul didn't scare him nearly as much as the thought of losing Buffy did.

Spike couldn't imagine how Buffy would react if she knew about his feelings for her, if she knew how he wanted her. He didn't fool himself into thinking that the Slayer could ever look upon him as more than just a friend or, worse yet, nothing but an obligation. He imagined she'd likely feel awkward, to say the least, about being around him if she found out how much he cared about her. Uncomfortable enough to stop seeing him.

Spike didn't want that. He could stand not having her the way he wanted her, but for her to be completely gone from his life was an unbearable thought.

Spike banged the back of his head against the brick wall he was leaning against, trying to knock some sense into himself. "Just get a hold of yourself, mate," he muttered, sighing out a cloud of smoke from his mouth.

"Nasty habit you got there," a sultry feminine voice commented from behind him. Spike whipped around, startled. He hadn't sensed anyone else in the alley. It was a rare thing for someone to be able to sneak up on him and the fact that this woman had was a testament to just how messed up he was at the moment. Spike shook off his surprise and focused on the pretty young thing sauntering his way. He raised his eyebrows at her all the while giving her a silent appraisal. She wore shiny red leather pants like a second skin, her big brown eyes were smudged with a liberal amount of black liner, and her full lips were painted a deep red. She tilted her head coyly at Spike, pulling back her lips to reveal a nice set of pearly whites as she smiled and added, "Talking to yourself, that is."

Spike smirked, rejoining, "Yeah, I know. Been tryin' to cut back, though."

The girl let out a throaty little chuckle. "That's good." She rubbed her lips together, pausing. "You think I could bum one of those?" she asked, nodding her head toward the cigarette pack in Spike's hand.

Spike pursed his lips in consideration for a second before extending the pack toward her. She flashed him another smile as she slid one out. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Spike watched her wrap her pretty, plump lips around the filter and obligingly flicked his lighter open for her. She leaned in and puffed against the flame. It was a natural reaction for Spike's eyes to trail down and get a better look at her cleavage, spilling out of her shirt as she bent forward. No amount of soul could take away Spike's appreciation of the female form. He only allowed his eyes to linger briefly before pulling them back up to the now glowing tip of her cigarette. Her big brown eyes smiling through the ribbons of smoke eddying up between them let him know that she had noticed him looking.

A faint smile touched her lips as she pulled herself up straight. Spike followed the trail of her tongue as it peeked out and ran along her stained scarlet lips as she let the smoke billow out slowly from between them. "Thanks again for the light," she murmured coyly.

Spike cracked a grin. "Again, no problem."

They smiled at each other for a moment.

Spike leaned back against the wall, enjoying the pressure-free flirtation with this anonymous strumpet. He had no real interest in taking it anywhere, but it was fun nonetheless. The woman moved over to a pile of crates and hopped up on one to use as at seat.

"So," he ventured after a moment, "you new in town?"

"Yep. Just got here in fact."

Spike smirked. "Thought so."

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, smiling, "and why's that?"

Spike's lip pursed and he shrugged. "I'm good at readin' people," he told her, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, "and your page ain't depicting a sunny, southern California girl."

"Well, you got that right," she replied with a chuckle. "I'm from Boston."

"Ah, Boston," Spike remarked, "right fine town, that."

"You've been?"

"A long time ago," he murmured. "So, what is it that brings you to good ol' Sunnyhell?"

She laughed. "Sunnyhell? Doesn't sound like you think too much of the place."

Spike shrugged. "‘s not my favorite, but it has...certain qualities." Buffy's face flickered into his mind. He shook it away. "So, you still haven't answered my question. What brings you here?" He crossed his arms about himself and brought his cigarette to his lips, squinting his eyes against the stinging smoke that drifted toward them.

"Well," she drawled, "from what I hear, this place has a pretty kickin' nightlife. And what can I say," she dragged on her cigarette before lifting up her arms in a shrug, "I just love the nightlife."

Spike snorted a laugh. "Yeah, know what you mean. I prefer the night m' self."

She chuckled. "Oh, I'll bet."

Spike gave her a curious look.

She snickered. "Well, you see," she began, hopping off the crate. "I'm pretty good at reading people myself. Lookin' at you, I'd say you're the type that can't step outside in daytime without ending up all extra-crispy."

Spike immediately stiffened, his hackles rising in response to the trouble he now knew he was in, trouble he should have picked up on the moment he laid eyes on this woman. He steeled himself, balling his fists, trying to remain cool.

"So," she prompted, tipping her head to the side, "how'd I do?"

Spike didn't responded, just kept looking at her steadily.

Her lips curved up slowly. She nodded, "That's what I thought. I got it right." She took one last long drag from her cigarette before tossing it aside. "Well, then, now that we've established who - sorry, what you are, I guess I should be introducing myself. I'm Faith, Vampire Slayer," she said as she whipped out a stake from behind her back, "and your worst nightmare."

                                      ~*~*~*~

Buffy's eyes had been glued to the door ever since Spike had stormed out of it moments before. Her brow was furrowed and her foot bobbed incessantly in an anxious rhythm as she tried to figure out what had happened that had startled the vampire so badly into make him leave that way.

Was it something she had done?

Buffy had to assume that it was, though she hadn't a clue what it was that she might have done. Maybe it wasn't about her. Maybe it was just all too much for him, being here with all these people. After all, he was still adjusting to being around anyone other than Buffy.

She liked that explanation, thinking that Spike just needed to get away from all these strangers, rather than just her in particular. But the way he had insisted she not accompany him out only made her think she was in part, if not completely, the problem.

Has she been crowding him?

She didn't think she had. In her opinion, she hadn't been spending nearly as much time with the vampire since she had moved back home with her mother. Even less now that Snyder had finally allowed her back into school and that she was now spending time with Willow and Xander. But Buffy had always tried to get to the mansion any chance she got.

She'd always thought that Spike was happy to see her when she came by. Had he just been tolerating her? Had he really just wanted her to leave him alone?

"Hey, Buffy," Willow's voice chirped, cracking into Buffy's musings.

"Hey," Buffy replied absently, barely sparing her friend a glance.

Willow's brow furrowed at Buffy's manner. "Hey, why the worry warts?"

Buffy turned to Willow upon hearing the odd turn of phrase. "Hmm?"

"What's wrong?" Willow amended.

"If only I knew," Buffy mumbled, again glancing towards the exit.

"Huh?"

Buffy sighed, shaking herself and looking back to her ignored and confused friend. "It's Spike."

"Ah," Willow remarked, thinking to herself that she should have realized right away that Buffy's state of consternation had to do with a vampire with a soul. After all, it was very familiar ground. "So what happened?"

"I don't know, really," Buffy began. "I mean, one minute we were having fun - or at least I thought we were."

"Looked like fun from where I was standing," said Willow. "The way you two were dancing made that sexy dance you pulled with Xander last year look like Sesame Street."

Buffy couldn't help but blush slightly. "Anyway," she went on, "one minute everything was fine and the next Spike just...totally wigged and took off."

"He just took off? He didn't say anything?"

"Well, he made up some excuse about needing a cigarette, but I know something else was wrong."

"Well, how do you know?" Willow offered. "I mean nicotine is a pretty powerful addiction and when an addict is in need of a fix it can make them act very wiggy."

Buffy shook her head doubtfully. "No," she said. "This wasn't just about him jonsing for a smoke. Something else is up, I could just sense it."

Willow's brow rose. "You mean, like Slayer sense?"

"Well, no," Buffy confessed. "It was just the regular human variety, but a very strong sense nonetheless."

"Well, Buffy, if you're really so sure that something is the matter with Spike, then why don't you just go out and check on him?" Willow suggested helpfully.

"Because," Buffy replied hotly, crossing her arms over her chest, "he thinks that I hover over him too much."

"He said that?" Willow was incredulous.

"Basically," Buffy huffed.

Willow frowned. "I can't believe that's what he really thinks, Buffy. I mean, think about it. If Spike really wanted space from you, then he wouldn't have agreed to come out tonight."

Buffy considered this. "You do have a point, I guess."

"Hey, I have an idea," Willow exclaimed.

Buffy's face scrunched. "About?"

"About how you can go and check on Spike without him knowing that's what you're doing."

Buffy's eyes narrowed with interest. "Go on."

"Well, how ‘bout this: we say that I wanted to get some fresh air - Spike can't object to my needing oxygen - and that I asked you to come with me, you know, like for protection, this being the Hellmouth, so it's unsafe for non-superhuman, strength-having people to be alone at night."

"Hmm, I don't know, Will," Buffy replied, "Spike's a pretty perceptive guy, I think he'll probably see through such a flimsy excuse. No offence."

Willow frowned, thinking it over. "Sorry," she shrugged, "it's the best I can come up with."

"Yeah," Buffy conceded after a beat. "I've got nothing better either... Let's go."

                                         ~*~*~*~

A Slayer? Spike marveled. How...? An image of a pretty girl with mocha colored skin flashed in his mind. Kendra. That was the name of the other Slayer that had been in Sunnydale before. The Slayer Spike had been so proud of Drusilla for killing. His own words echoed in his mind...

"Dru bagged a Slayer?! Hey, good for her."

He winced at the memory, how disgusted Buffy had been with him.

Can you blame her? he asked himself. You were a right bastard. You're lucky she didn't stake you right then.

She'd have been justified. Just one more reason why Buffy could never feel for him the way he did for her.

As if I needed another.

"Are you havin' a stroke or something?" Faith's demanding voice cut in. "Snap out of it!"

Right, Spike shook himself and focused his attention on the stake happy Slayer in front him, bit more of a pressin' issue at the moment.

"Listen, love," Spike put up his hands in a gesture of supplication and eased back from the girl, "I'm not like other vampires. I don't wanna hurt you."

Faith laughed at his claim. "Are you freakin' kiddin' me? You really expect me to fall for that line? You must think I'm some kind of idiot."

"It's no line," Spike stressed, jaw muscles twitching as he tried to control the ire rising in him. His eyes kept flicking from Faith's face to the stake in her hand. "You see there's this curse-"

Without warning, Faith swung her leg up and cracked Spike in the mouth with her boot, effectively cutting him off.

Light burst behind Spike's eyes, his mouth filled with the sweet, coppery taste of his own blood. He staggered backward.

"Bloody hell," he cursed, shaking his head in attempt to clear his vision. The first thing he saw when he did was the girl's fist coming at him. He wasn't quick enough to react and the blow sent him reeling, crashing into a dumpster.

"What's the matter with you, huh?" Faith railed as she kicked him in the face again. "Why aren't you fighting back?" She grabbed him by the hair and banged his head into the dumpster.

The rattling of aluminum resounded loudly in Spike's ears.

He heard a growling sound and wondered where it came from, then he realized it came from him; his demon instinct was taking over in the face of threat. He felt the bones under his face shifting. A voice deep inside of him screaming at him to tear this bitch apart.

Spike sprang to his feet, yellow eyes flaring with rage, fangs bared.

"All right," Faith remarked, a smile spreading across her face. "Glad you finally woke up. Now we can party."

Spike felt like he was being split in two. He knew deep inside of himself that he did not want to hurt Faith. But his baser self, the one that had been pressed down within him for so long, had finally been provoked enough to gain a foothold and the demon was not going to give it up without a fight.

His body was still as the soul and demon inside him warred for control.

Spike's yellow eyes followed Faith as she circled around him. The demon growled and gnashed his teeth.

Oh, look at ‘er, it whirred. Such a pretty thing, bet she's a right tasty morsel. Come on, what d'ya say we show this bitch who the Big bad is around here?

Spike's fists balled at his sides, his soul keeping him locked in place.

How long ‘as it been, how long since we last tasted the blood of a Slayer? Too bloody long if you ask me. Remember how sweet it tastes ...

A moan slipped from Spike's lips, his eyes closed as the memory of drinking the two Slayers he killed washed over him.

Faith, taking advantage of Spike's distraction, lunged forward. His eyes snapped open and grabbed hold of the fist coming his way. Quickly, he twisted her arm behind her back and jerked her against him.

Spike brushed the hair away from Faith's neck and buried his nose in the crook of it, breathing in the Slayer's essence.

Ooh, do you smell that? the demon moaned. Is there anything more intoxicating? Imagine the taste.

Spike's tongue slid out and licked Faith's neck. He could hear the wild beating of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins; It was like music, an old familiar tune. His fangs grazed against Faith's delicate flesh but not hard enough to break the skin.

That's it, the demon drawled, go on then, take her. You know it's what you want.

Suddenly, the image of the other Slayers passed through Spike's mind, their limp lifeless bodies lying on the ground. It was like a bucket of ice water poured over him, dousing his bloodlust.

"No!" Spike cried out, pushing Faith away from him. He put his hands to his head and curled his fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth. "I can't do it. I won't do it. That's not what I want. That's not who I am anymore. I'm not a killer! You can't make me!"

Faith took a big step back from Spike, her face twisted in confusion. What the...? Is this dude for real? She wasn't sure. She remembered her Watcher remarking something about the Hellmouth before and how it had strong effects on the forces of darkness.

Yeah, well, I guess you could call makin' ‘em bat shit crazy an effect.

"Yo, Sybil!" Faith barked. "You mind cuttin' the crap? ‘Cause this is startin' to cut into valuable party time. I'd like to finish this before the bar closes, you know what I mean?"

The voice startled Spike out of his internal struggle. He'd been so consumed with the fight going on inside of him, he'd nearly forgot about the one he was currently engaged in with the new Slayer.

Spike opened his eyes and slowly put his hands down from his head and held them up entreatingly to Faith. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, still out of sorts. "I didn't mean ...I didn't mean to do what I did."

Faith laughed. "You didn't mean what, to let me go?"

Spike ground his teeth. "No! I didn't mean to try to-" he balled his fists. "I don't want to hurt you," he tried again, his voice calmer now. "I made a mistake. I couldn't control myself."

"Well," Faith remarked, "what a coincidence, it just so happens I have a great way of dealing with out of control animals," she brandished her stake again and held it up for him to see, "by putting them down."

~*~*~*~

　

Buffy and Willow were putting on their jackets when Xander finally returned with drinks in hand.

"Hey, guys what's going on?" he asked. "You're not bailing on me after I just spent nearly an hour waiting in line to bring you all some whistle wetting goodness, are you?"

"We're not leaving." Willow assured. "Spike said he was going out for a smoke and we're just going to make sure that he's all right."

"Why wouldn't he be all right?" Xander asked. "If he's just smoking what could there be to worry about? Unless you think, he might've accidentally set himself on fire." He snickered.

Willow responded by giving him a withering look; she did not appreciate his humour. Xander had promised her that he was going to try and give the vampire a chance. But so far she saw nothing that suggested that he was going to stick to his word.

Xander sighed at Willow's expression with genuine contrition. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He set the drinks down on a nearby table. "All right, let's go and make sure everything's okay with Deadboy Jr."

Willow tilted her head and frowned, but she didn't make any attempt to reprimand him. Rolling her eyes, she sighed, figuring that this was the best effort she could hope from him for now.

Buffy had barely registered the exchange between her friends. She had been too preoccupied with her anxiousness to get outside; she couldn't shake this gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was wrong.

"Ugh! Guys can we just go now, please?" the Slayer asked testily.

"Sure, Buffy," Willow said sheepishly.

"Yeah, okay,"a cowed Xander muttered.

"Thank you." Buffy blew out a breath and whipped around.

"Hey guys!" said a perky voice behind them, stalling Buffy's progress to the door yet again. "Where're you going?"

They all turned to see Cordelia beaming that thousand watt smile of hers.

Buffy groaned and reminded herself that she wasn't allowed to slay humans.

Seeing the look in her friend's eye, Willow quickly stepped in saying, "We're just going to step outside real quick to check on Spike. We'll be right back."

They made to turn away again.

"Well, hey just hold on a sec and let me grab my jacket," Cordelia chimed. "I could use some air, the humidity in here is starting to make my hair go flat."

Well, you won't have to worry about that soon, Buffy thought darkly, 'cause if you don't quit stalling me I'm going to rip it out!

"Hey!" Xander exclaimed, nervously seeing Buffy's fist curling. "No need for you to go to the trouble of getting your jacket, you can have mine." He slipped of his jacket and draped it over his girlfriend's shoulders.

"Great!" Buffy bit. "Now that Cordelia isn't going to freeze to death in the frigid sixty-seven degree temperature, can we please get going?"

The three were too shocked --and scared-- to speak, so they just bobbed their heads at her.

"Great." She sighed. "Let's-- "

"Hey, you guys leaving?" Oz asked as he joined the tableaux.

"Ugh, you gotta be kidding me!" Buffy exclaimed. "Forget it, I'm just going by myself. I don't care what the hell Spike wants." With that she spun around and stomped away.

Oz looked confused and wondered, "Uh . . . was it something I said?"

~*~*~*~

Faith burst forth, leveraging one foot on a crate and leaping off in a flying roundhouse kick that landed with a crack across Spike's cheek, the vampire went reeling and dropped on all fours.

"You're a real stake tease you know that?" Faith taunted the felled vamp. "You put on that vamp face of yours, getta a girl all hot and bothered thinking she's gonna get some action, then...BAM!" She kicked Spike in the side for extra emphasis. "You put on the brakes. You know it's turnin' hot and cold like that what leads to people getting bad reputations."

Spike let out a bitter chuckle and spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. He pushed himself up on his knees and swiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb, cleaning off the dribble of spittle and blood. "No worries there, love," he panted. "There's nothin' you could say that would do any damage to my name," his mouth curved up in disdain, "I'm already infamous."

"Oh yeah?" Faith challenged. "Well how's about getting off your ass and showing me some of that infamy, then?"

"Well," Spike gritted, "as I have tried to tell you, I'm different. I don't hurt people, don't kill any more," he added the last word quietly but Faith heard it loud and clear before she latched on to it.

"Anymore," she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. "But you have hurt people, killed them, before."

Spike clenched his eyes shut and nodded.

"And just what is it that made you stop doin' that then, huh? ‘Cause from what I've been told a vamp don't just change his tune. A vampire is a killing machine that lives for nothing more than to cause pain."

Spike gritted his teeth and took in some air through his nostrils. He steeled himself and looked up at Faith. "That's exactly what they are," he affirmed. "Exactly what I used to be, before I got cursed."

Faith raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching up ever so slightly. "Cursed?" she echoed dubiously. "What kind of curse?"

Spike sighed wearily and started to get to his feet, Faith's body stiffened defensively when he moved. Spike put up his hands. "Is it all right if I stand?"

Faith gave him a terse nod but her body remained alert. Spike nodded in return, keeping his hands raised as he slowly rose to his feet.

"Okay," he ventured. "The curse - it's got a long backstory and I'm assumin' you ain't the type to want all the boring details." Faith let out an affirming huff. "Right then," Spike went on. "Well, the short of it is, it's an old Gypsy's curse that gives a vampire a soul, a conscience, so they regret all the bad things they've done."

Spike sucked in his cheeks and paused for a second. "So, that's what happened to me. I got cursed with a soul an' now I'm all rife with atonement over the horrible things I've done in the past," his voice lowered in shame as he added, "it's hard enough trying to live with what I've done, there's no way I would ever do anything to harm someone again."

"Oh yeah?" Faith challenged "You sure seemed ready to sink your teeth into me just a few minutes ago," she reminded him.

Spike's fists balled. "That was a mistake," he asserted, his voice low and fierce, "a fluke. It shouldn't ‘ave happened. It won't happen again."

Faith let out a sarcastic laugh. "And how the hell can you be so sure of that? I mean you say now it shouldn't have happened. You can't know you that won't lose control again."

Spike ground his teeth as doubt began to eat at him.

"And what if next time your Jiminy Cricket ain't able to rein you in and you end up killing some poor girl," Faith needled, "what then? I don't think I would be able to live with myself if I let you live and something like that happens. Put yourself in my shoes, what would you do if you were me?"

I'd put a stake right through my chest, Spike thought dreadfully. Instead, he shook his head and said, "No, it won't happen, I won't hurt anyone." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Faith. It wouldn't happen again, would it? Angel never hurt anyone when he had a soul, did he? Neither will I then, no matter what this bint thinks.

"Well," Faith said, slowly beginning to meander towards Spike, "you might be willing to take that risk, but I can't. You see I got this whole sacred duty thing, being a Slayer. You're just another vamp to me. It's my job to kill you. Doesn't even make a difference to me if you've been touched by freakin' angel,"

Spike couldn't help but snort at Faith's unintentional joke. "Well, as a matter of fact..." he muttered.

"Look," Faith snapped. "This isn't anything personal, but like I said, I got a job to do. But I'll do you favour and make quick, okay?" With that, she again rushed him.

Damn it, Spike seethed. He had done his best to try and talk himself out of this situation, his silver tongue had almost always served him well in the past. But, it was less effective with Slayers; there was only one language they understood. Spike didn't want to resort to getting physical, but he didn't really have any other choice unless he just let Faith kill him. A few weeks ago, that option wouldn't have bothered him so much. He might have welcomed it even. But after everything that Buffy had done for him to help pull him out of that dark place he'd been in straight after his ensoulment, he couldn't just give up without a fight.

His resolve in place, Spike grabbed hold of Faith's wrist, the stake in her hand just a hair's breadth from piercing his chest. "I'd prefer to take my time, if you don't mind," he countered, his voice strained as he tightened his grip on her wrist until her hand opened and the stake fell to the ground.

Faith looked down at her lost weapon, then back up to Spike's face, anger and a twinge of surprise in her eyes. Spike, pulling out one of his old favorite moves, reared his head back then threw it forward, butting his forehead into Faith's face.

She staggered back from Spike. Hunched over, Faith spit blood out of her mouth. Spike balked at the sight of it, a surge of desire went through him, which he quickly stifled.

Faith looked up at him, her brown eyes seething through the curtain her curly dark hair had created over her face, her bleeding top lip curled up in disdain. "I knew all that talk about you being cursed with a soul was a load of crap," she fumed.

She straightened herself. "Okay, forget quick and easy. Slow and painful it is then." Faith charged Spike and slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. Quickly, she spun around to retrieve her stake. As she brought her hand down toward him, Spike's eyes widened and he rolled out of the stake's path and into a crouch. Faith whirled on him and stalked towards him once more.

Spike kicked out his leg and swiped Faith's feet out from under her. The Slayer was airborne for a moment before she crashed down hard on the pavement, her head bouncing off of it. Spike saw his opportunity and took it, pouncing on Faith's prone form and pinning her down, his hand on her throat.

"Damn," Faith croaked, smiling through a grimace of pain. "So much for not hurting me, huh?"

Spike's jaw clenched. He didn't like this. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. But, she hadn't left him a choice. Steeling himself, Spike increased the pressure of his hold on her neck, until he heard the slightest crack. He looked down at the Slayer, his eyes cold and solemn, so was his voice as he spoke. "I could kill you right now."

Faith looked back up at him, her eyes full of defiance even as she knew her life was literally in Spike's hands right now. He had seen that look before, the first time in China all those years ago. It was a look of pure strength. A look that said, even though you may kill me, you'll never beat me. The look of a Slayer. Others he killed always begged for mercy, pleaded not to be killed. But a Slayer never gave up, not even at the end and it was that fire in their eyes that had fueled Spike's lust for the hunt of them; it was why he became the Slayer of Slayers.

Faith raised her eyebrows ever so slightly as if asking, what the hell are you waiting for?

"But," Spike went on, "I won't." Surprise flashed in Faith's eyes as Spike's grip eased. "I just want you to remember, I had you. Keep that in mind before you go grabbin' that stake of yours, huh? I could have easily done you in, but because I'm in control, I didn't." With that, Spike lifted back off of Faith and sat back against the dumpster, taking out his cigarettes.

Faith propped herself up on one elbow, her other hand rubbing her sore neck, as she looked dazedly at the vampire. "Hey," she tried to shout, but it came out as a croak, "so that's it, you're just gonna give up?"

Spike lit his cigarette, then shrugged. He blew out a plume of smoke. "I've done all I can," he told her. "If I haven't convinced you I don't want to kill you by now, nothing will. So, it's up to you, you can go ahead and dust me if you want. But, could you at least allow a fella one last fag first?"

Faith narrowed her eyes, not knowing what to think. For all she knew, this guy could still be using some kind of ploy. She almost wished he were. If he really was agood vampire, he went against everything her Watcher had drilled into her head. She was shaken, and, quite frankly, in need of a nicotine fix herself, so she gave him a small nod and pushed herself up. "Just as long as you let me have one, too."

Spike chuffed and tossed the pack to her. Faith popped one into her mouth and dragged her sore body over to the dumpster and sat, with a good distance between them, next to Spike.

Spike tossed his lighter toward her, the metal clinking as it hit the pavement. Faith picked it up wordlessly and flicked it open, lighting her cigarette, before sliding the lighter back to Spike. He snatched it up and put it back in his pocket.

The pair smoked in silence for a moment, Faith keeping a wary eye on the vampire through the rivulets of smoke billowing between them. "So," she said eventually, licking her lips, "what's your name anyway, Soulman?"

Spike chuckled, turning his head to look at Faith with a wry smile. He was just about to open his mouth and respond when a shrill voice beat him to the punch.

"Spike!"

Spike's tongue curled behind his teeth at the voice. He clucked his tongue and said to Faith, amusement coating his words, "That'd be me." Spike pushed himself painfully to his feet.

Faith stood too, her mouth twitching up as she looked at the tiny blonde storming their way.

"Oh my god!" Buffy fretted as she came closer to Spike and saw how banged up he was. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I'm all right, pet," Spike assured. "Though I guess I could ‘ave used an escort after all," he added with a sardonic smile.

Buffy's chest clenched as she looked at him, face cut and bleeding. She had to fight the urge to kiss his wounds. Instead, she reached up and gently brushed a small patch of his cheek that wasn't visibly hurt.

Spike fought not to wince as Buffy's hand touched his face, where, undoubtedly, in a few hours a big, purple bruise would form. He wrapped his hand around hers and slowly brought it down. He gave her a small smile and again assured her, "I'm alright, Buffy. Really."

"Buffy?" Faith echoed, she tilted her head to the side, regarding the other woman with even more interest. "As in the Slayer?"

Buffy whirled around. She was angered for having been ripped out of the moment she was sharing with Spike and for being brought back to reality. "Yeah, that's me," she confirmed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking the stranger over. To Buffy's keen eye, she could see how the injuries the woman bore corresponded with the ones Spike had. Her blood boiled knowing that this woman was the cause of Spike's battered state. She took a menacing step toward the interloper. "And just who the hell are you?"

Spike's nostrils flared as Buffy's scent changed, the way it did when she was readying for a fight. It was a heady scent, which instinctively excited Spike. But, keeping himself in check, he shook off the effect and lurched forward, stepping in between the two women. He wasn't afraid for Buffy's safety if a fight broke out - he had every confidence she'd prove the victor - nor was he really all that worried about Faith being hurt. He was worried how it might upset Buffy when she realized she had pummeled one of her own.

"Buffy," he broke in; the Slayer in question looked at him sharply, surprised by his actions. "This is Faith..." he winced inwardly at what he was about to say, he didn't suppose it was something Buffy would want to hear. "She's the new Slayer in town."

 

TBC...

After the initial shock of two Slayers had worn off, the Scooby gang assembled back inside the Bronze to commence with the aweing of it. Everyone sat around Faith as she regaled them with naked adventures and alligator wrestling. Everyone, that is, save Spike. He was the only one of the group who hadn't seemingly forgotten the existence of the original Slayer.

Spike eyed Buffy, her head was bowed down towards the hands clasped in her lap as she pretended that all the fawning over the newer model didn't bother her. But anyone with half a brain could see that it did. Anger welled up in Spike as he sent an unnoticed sneer at the group of traitors; he doubted that they shared half a brain among them. The whelp didn't surprise him - he couldn't expect a boy like that to notice anything once the word "naked" was uttered in reference to an attractive woman .

His girl, Cordelia, seemed a shallow short; the type that figured the sun shone for them alone. He didn't think it odd that she would abandon Buffy. But that she would let anyone other than herself take center stage was striking. He didn't really know anything about the werewolf, so he couldn't make any definitive conclusions about his character. He was a tad surprised by Willow though. She had seemed a sympathetic sort. Spike would've have thought that at least she, out of all of them, would realize that the abject adoration they were giving another Slayer would hurt Buffy's feelings. But she was just as clueless as the rest.

Spike felt like knocking all their heads together. Though, grudgingly, Spike had to admit that he could understand the reason for their fascination. Anyone new to Sunnydale was, of course, a big deal to kids who'd never really been outside of their little corner of the world. Granted that Sunnydale, being on a Hellmouth, offered a lot more excitement than your average small town USA. Still, the appeal of someone so much more worldly was too strong to resist. Spike however, having been around the block a couple hundred times himself, was not interested in anything the understudy had to say.

That is, until she asked a certain intriguing question of Buffy. "Isn't it crazy how slayin' just always makes you hungry and horny?"

Buffy felt her cheeks flaming as everyone looked to her expectantly. Just a few minutes ago, she had been wishing her friends would remember her existence; this, however, was not what she had wanted . She shrank back sheepishly in her seat, looking in turn to the querying eyes of her friends. When her gaze fell on Spike and she saw the spark of interest in his eyes, the leering way he rose an eyebrow at her, her blush went all the way to her core . She quickly looked away from him and, stammering, responded to the question, "Well. . . I do sometimes crave a non-fat yogurt afterwards."

Spike's lip twitched as Buffy glanced his way again. She felt a moment of panic, catching the knowing glint in his eye. She worried that perhaps she had given off some sort of vibe during their past fights that caused that look in his eye. Now she was glad that her friends weren't paying attention to her. She just wished Spike would concentrate on Faith some more as well.

Buffy turned to look at Cordelia, pretending to listen as the other girl explained the obvious about why there was another Slayer.

"B," Faith asked, "is it really true that you used a rocket launcher one time?"

Buffy smiled and leaned forward, happy to be included in the conversation in a non-embarrassing way. "Yeah. Actually it's a funny story there's-"

Xander interrupted her, wanting to know more about the aforementioned alligator story. Buffy, once again being overshadowed, leaned back into her seat, a hurt look crossing her face.

Spike glared daggers at the back of Xander's head as the oblivious boy asked Faith if this story also involved nudity. Pathetic ponce. Spike wanted shake the boy until his teeth rattled loose in his useless skull. Surprisingly, the soul in him didn't seem to object too much to the idea.

"I tell ya," Faith concluded wistfully, "I never had more trouble than with that damn vamp. So what about you," she nodded at Buffy, "what was your toughest kill?"

A dark look crossed Buffy's face, the meaning of which, like everything else, was lost on everyone in the group except Spike. He had no doubt whatsoever which kill was playing through Buffy's mind right now.

Angel.

Buffy shook herself. "Well, they're all difficult, I guess," she evaded. Spike had the impulse to reach over and take her hand. Suddenly Buffy's eyes lightened. "Oh, you guys remember the Three?" She was met with blank looks. Spike's brow knitted with interest. The Three, eh? He'd never met them personally but their reputation for being a tough bunch was renowned in the underworld.

"That's right," Buffy went on, a bit deflated, "you guys never met the Three. Well, there-"

Buffy's story was once again interrupted, causing Spike's ire to rise - he'd actually really wanted to hear about that one. This time, it wasn't Xander to cut her off, but the werewolf whom, until this moment, Spike didn't think he'd actually heard speak.

"So you both kill vampire's - and who could blame you-" his eyes flicked to Spike, "no offence." Spike curled his lip and gave a dismissive nod. "Anyway," Oz went on, directing his attention towards Faith, "what is your position on werewolves?"

"Oz is a werewolf," Willow interjected.

"It's a long story," Buffy offered.

"I got bit," Oz explained.

Buffy deflated. "Apparently not that long,"

"Hey, as long as you don't go scratching at me and humping my leg, we're five by five, you know?" Faith replied.

"Fair enough," Oz murmured thoughtfully.

Spike rolled his eyes as he caught a look on Xander's face that suggested he was imagining humping some part of the girl's body at that moment. He'd had about all of this as he could take and, he suspected, so had Buffy.

"Well," Spike pronounced, clapping his hands together to make sure he got everyone's attention, "I sure ‘ave enjoyed listenin' to all the tall-tales, but I think I'm gonna ‘ave to call it a night. My head's startin' to smart."

Faith pursed her lips and sucked in some air through her teeth. "Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that." Despite her contrite words, a hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. It was a bit of a flirtatious smile, Buffy noticed, tensing.

Spike's lips twitched. "No worries, love,"

Love? Buffy repeated silently. She didn't like him using the endearment he used with her on Faith. It was bad enough that all of her friends were tripping over themselves trying to get in with the other Slayer, now she was taking Spike away from Buffy too.

Buffy looked from Spike to Faith and wondered if it was just her imagination, or was the chemistry dancing between them real?

"Aww, you're leaving?" Xander's mocking voice broke into her musings. "That's too bad. Well, bye," he dismissed the vampire abruptly before turning back to the Slayer of the hour. "So, Faith-"

"Uh, Slayer," Spike interrupted whatever inane - and no doubt perverted - question the boy was about to ask.

"Yeah?" Buffy and Faith both replied. Buffy looked at Faith sharply; Spike may have called her love, but Slayer was definitely a moniker that was Buffy's alone.

Right?

A taut silence passed between them until Spike amended himself, "Uh, Buffy."

Faith put up her hands with and ‘oops' expression.

Buffy beamed triumphantly and turned to the vampire. "Yes?"

"Um," Spike scratched his head with feigned sheepishness, "I hate to ask, and you don't have to if you wanna stick around and. . ." he waved a hand toward Faith, "bond, but. . ."

Buffy cringed at the thought of bonding with Faith before her spirits lifted and she realized what Spike was trying to say. "You want me to walk you?"

Spike gave a small, shy smile. "If you don't mind."

"Sure," Buffy replied with a touch too much enthusiasm, hopping to her feet. "I wouldn't mind at all."

"Good." Spike slapped his thighs and heaved himself up. "Well, night all," he muttered to the bunch. "Faith, it was. . . interesting meetin' you." He rubbed his jaw. "You definitely made quite an impression."

Faith chuckled throatily. "Yeah well, you were pretty impressive yourself there."

Buffy's blood simmered as visions of eye scratching danced in her head and she balled her fists.

The scent of her anger wafted up to Spike and he turned to appraise Buffy. The green in her eyes was popping in this light and he saw the most amazing thing in them.

Is she... jealous? Spike was sure she was. But was she jealous that Faith was flirting with him, or was it just because she was taking over the Slayer's territory? It was likely a mixture of both, Spike reckoned, with the bulk of it caused by the latter, but he could live with that.

"Well, then," he ventured, invigorated, "shall we?"

Buffy smiled at him. "‘kay." She waved at her friends. "See you guys tomorrow?"

Willow smiled at her. "Sure. Bye guys."

Buffy got no better than a mumbled response from the others with the exception Faith.

"Yeah. I definitely wanna hook up later, B." She flashed those pearly whites of her. "We can talk shop, swap stories."

Buffy plastered on a tight smile and nodded. "Sound great." And about as fun as a root canal.

Faith was apparently oblivious to Buffy's lack of enthusiasm. "Cool, later. And, uh, I'll be seein' you later too, Soulman," she added, tilting her head with a coy half-smirk at Spike.

"Yeah, right," Spike muttered in a non-committal tone. He then ushered Buffy towards the exit before she jumped across the couch and ripped Faith's hair out.

~*~*~*~

Spike's jaw was clenched tight. He was fighting not to wince as Buffy scrubbed an alcohol soaked cotton ball a bit too roughly over the lesions on his face. Instead of going straight to the mansion, Buffy had insisted they stop at her house - since it was closer to the Bronze - to get Spike cleaned up. She'd argued that if they didn't, they'd have a line of vamps following the trail of blood Spike was leaving in his wake.

Spike gave in, of course. He didn't suppose he would ever be able to refuse her anything.

He observed her expression of consternation: the tight, thin line of her mouth and her narrowed eyes, and figured she was thinking about the new girl.

"You all right, pet?" he asked .

"I'm fine," Buffy replied tightly with a touch of defensiveness in her tone. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Spike's raised his eyebrows in challenge - the action proved a painful one, as it reopened an already healing cut on his left brow. He wondered if he'd end up with an accompanying scar to the one that already existed there. "Come on, Slayer," he needled, "don't you know by now that you can't fool me? I know that the arrival of this new chit has gotta be botherin' you."

Buffy huffed. "Why should it bother me? I should be happy she's here, embracing her even. If anything, she can only help me out with all the vamps and demons and lighten my load. I should be grateful she came here," Buffy said as much to herself as to Spike. She knew the things that she was saying should be true. She should be glad about having another Slayer around to help. But the truth was that Spike was right. Faith did bother her.

Buffy thought back, trying to remember if she had felt this hostile towards Kendra when she first arrived. The answer was yes. She hadn't been too welcoming of her arrival either - but, then again, that was mostly to do with the fact that Kendra had locked her honey in a cage with a nice view of the sun.

Maybe what she was feeling now was like that. Maybe she was so rankled by Faith because she had beaten up Spike. But, Buffy knew even as she thought it, that that wasn't the case here. She knew why Faith irked her so; it was because she was jealous.

She was jealous of how her friends had been drooling all over themselves, listening to Faith talk about her exploits. They hadn't seemed nearly as interested in Kendra when she was here. Of course, Kendra hadn't been one to bask in attention the way Faith seemed to enjoy doing.

Buffy sighed. She didn't like being jealous. It made her feel petty.

"It's all right, pet," Spike said, seeming to read her mind. "I get what it's like. To be the top dog and then suddenly become...then ‘ave someone saunter in and knock you off your throne." Of course, that isn't a particularly difficult thing for one to do, when the one sittin' there is confined to a wheelchair, he added bitterly to himself.

"I think you were mixing your metaphors there," Buffy remarked.

Spike's lip twitched wryly. "I think you can still follow my point."

"Yeah," Buffy admitted quietly. "I think I do. You're talking about you and Angelus."

"And you and Faith. Different ends of the spectrum, but same basic elements. She's your counterpart but also competition. You're both alphas; it's hard for you to coexist peacefully," he stated sagely. "An' I know it doesn't help that your mates were throwin' themselves at her feet." Just like Dru did. She forgot all about her dark prince once daddy came home. Spike tried to shake himself; he hadn't realized how much resentment he still held for that.

He cleared his throat along with his thoughts and continued with his point, "But you can't take their reactions too personally. This girl to them is like a shiny new toy; they wanna play with her now, but they'll tire of her soon enough."

Buffy let his words sink in for a moment before responding, "And what about you?"

Spike's brow crinkled in question.

"Well," Buffy expanded, "I mean, I don't know how things were going between you two before she kicked your ass, but afterwards you seemed pretty chummy. You guys were smoking together and all."

Spike couldn't help the swell of pleasure he felt at Buffy's apparent jealousy but he tried to suppress it from showing outwardly. "First of all, Slayer," he began, holding up a finger to tick off his point, "I'll ‘ave you know, that bint far from kicked my ass. I had the upper hand. Had I been so inclined I coulda snuffed her out, no problem." Buffy couldn't fight the smirk tugging at her lips as she listened to Spike's posturing. "The only person who has ever kicked my ass is you, pet. And second, you of all people should know that I am capable of bein' somewhat civil when the purpose serves me. Or have you forgotten our little truce?"

"Of course I haven't," Buffy replied. "But, even though you and I worked together to take on Angel, you never once let anything but your seething hatred for me show."

"Well yeah," Spike replied , "we were mortal enemies and I was without a soul at the time. Things were different. I don't ‘ave any sort of interest in this new girl."

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked, looking down at her hands. "Because it looked like-"

"I don't care what it looked like," Spike interrupted. "I care what I'm tellin' you and I'm tellin' you that I know good an' well what that girl's selling and I'm not interested in buyin'. Pet," he entreated, "look at me will you?"

Buffy kept her eyes on the Band-Aid she had in her hands.

"Buffy?"

Taking in a breath, Buffy slowly looked up and did what she had tried to avoid doing whenever possible; she looked straight into Spike's eyes. Her breath froze as she gazed into his icy blue depths. She couldn't figure out why his eyes always had the strangest and strongest effect on her. But she knew that to venture into them was dangerous. That's why, when looking at his face, she tried to keep her focus on three safe spots: forehead, nose or chin. His lips, she found, were quite treacherous territory as well.

Spike looked into the kaleidoscope that were Buffy's eyes, and saw in them a vulnerability he never before witnessed from the Slayer, not even on that Halloween when she had forgotten herself and her strength. He remembered her that night, her helplessness. The way she had cowered from him as he towered over her. He could remember the intoxicating scent of her fear.

Then he recalled how he had nearly lost control during the fight earlier.

If Buffy knew how close the monster in him had come to being unleashed, would she still be opening herself to him like this now?

Spike blinked and cleared his throat, looking down.

Buffy was surprised; Spike had never before been the first to look away. "What is it?" she asked, worried.

Spike licked his lips. "Listen, pet, there's somethin' I should tell you, somethin' happened with me, before ...with the other Slayer."

Buffy straightened, taking a step back from him. Spike flicked a glance at her eyes; her walls were back up.

His jaw tensed and he had to work it a bit before he could speak, "I had . . . a sort of . . . episode, I guess. I almost lost control of myself."

Buffy's brow pinched in surprise . When Spike had said something had happened with the other Slayer, visions of the pair making out had absurdly found their way into her mind. "Lost control?" she echoed. "How?"

Spike shook his head. "I, that is, I almost-I wanted to-" He paused, taking in a needless breath and sighed. "I almost bit her," he confessed, barely audible. But Buffy was close enough to hear.

Her eyes widened, her heart jumping with anxiety. "You . . . almost bit her?" She was hoping she had heard him wrong.

Spike, his eyes clenched shut, nodded.

Buffy licked her lips. "Okay," she said slowly, "tell me what happened exactly."

Spike sighed. "I didn't want to fight her," he began. "I tried to tell her that, but she wouldn't listen - not that I blame her. She just kept comin' at me and I was gettin' really ticked off. My blood was boilin'. I tried to fight it, but the bloodlust...it just took over." He shook his head as the memory of her heartbeat pulsing against his lips flooded him. "I was this close," to demonstrate, he held up his thumb and index finger spread less than an inch apart , "I could have-"

"But you didn't," Buffy interrupted. "And that's the point. You stopped yourself, right? I mean you said before that you had the upper hand and you could have killed Faith, but you didn't."

Spike nodded his head weakly. "Yeah. I stopped myself," he muttered. "But, the chit brought up a good point. What if I lose control again but can't stop myself? Buffy, what would happen if I hurt someone?"

"You won't." Buffy's tone was adamant.

Spike huffed. "We can't know-"

"I know," she argued. "I know you, Spike. You won't hurt anyone."

Spike looked into Buffy's eyes and was struck by the utter sincerity in them. She really believed in him.

Buffy put her hand over Spike's and squeezed it, stepping closer to him, she offered a reassuring smile.

A throat cleared from the doorway. "Am I interrupting something here?"

Buffy, wide eyed, whipped around. "Mom!" she practically squeaked.

Joyce put her hand to her mouth to cover a small smirk. She couldn't help it from forming upon seeing the scared, rabbit in the headlights look on her demon-fighting daughter's face. It was reassuring to know that, no matter how much responsibility was on Buffy's shoulders, she was still a normal teenage girl in some respect.. But Joyce's amusement quickly faltered when she got a good look at Spike's face.

"Oh my god!" she gasped. "What happened?" She rushed over to the injured vampire to better inspect him.

"New Slayer," Spike immediately informed.

"A new..." Joyce looked at Buffy, her surprise visible. "I thought there was only one."

"There is. Usually," Buffy said. "Remember Kendra?" Her mother nodded. "Well, she died so...Faith was called. I guess since I, you know, died that time." Buffy winced, seeing the tightening of her mom's mouth. Her daughter's death was still a sore subject for Joyce and not something she enjoyed thinking about. Buffy cleared her throat. "Well, I guess because that happened, there will always be two Slayer's now instead of one."

"Well good," Joyce declared after a moment. "Now someone else can take over for you and you can focus more on having a normal life."

"It's not that simple Mom," argued Buffy.

"Why not?"

"Well," Buffy began, "just because there happens to be another Slayer doesn't mean that I stop being the Slayer. I still have a responsibility."

"Yes," Joyce acknowledged, "but since there was only supposed to be one Slayer to begin with, then I don't understand why - since there's another one now - you both have to sacrifice everything for slaying."

Buffy sighed in exasperation.

Spike found himself uncomfortable witnessing this family argument. "Uh," he broke in, "you know it's gettin' pretty early. I should make my way back to the mansion before it gets too close to sunrise." He pushed away from the counter and started for the door.

"Spike wait," Buffy called. "I thought you wanted me to walk you."

Spike waved her off. "I think I'll be fine. What're the odds I'll meet a third Slayer out there, eh? You should stay here with your mum. I'll see you later."

"But-"

"Why don't you just spend the day here?"

Spike and Buffy both turned to Joyce, goggling at the woman.

"What?" Joyce asked defensively. "We have a trundle bed down in the basement we can make up. It's no trouble."

"Oh," said Spike. "I wouldn't want to put you out, Joyce."

Mrs. Summers clucked her tongue. "Nonsense. I said it isn't any trouble."

"Uh..." Spike floundered for an excuse.

"Mom," Buffy intervened, "it isn't exactly practical for him to stay here. He has certain needs..."

"Blood, you mean?" Her mother's matter-of-fact tone surprised Buffy.

"For starters," she said.

"Well, that isn't a problem. We have some." Joyce crossed to the fridge and opened the door. Inside, there were two Styrofoam containers that clearly came from the butcher's.

"Um...since when did you add blood to your grocery list?" Buffy inquired.

"Since we started entertaining vampires for dinner," her mother replied in that same nonchalant tone as before. "I thought it would be good to have some on hand in case Spike ever wanted to come by."

"Well," Spike began, he was quite surprised by this development himself - and, after over a century, it took a lot to surprise the vampire. "That's a mighty fine gesture, Joyce."

"Think nothing of it, Spike," Joyce replied, giving him that kind, nurturing smile of hers. "So," she ventured, "is it settled then? Should I get you some blankets for the basement?"

"Uh..." Spike looked to Buffy. The Slayer shrugged, her expression reading along the lines of why not?.

"Sure," Spike drawled, "that would be nice."

TBC..

Buffy carefully crept down the stairs to the basement; she didn’t want to disturb Spike in case he was sleeping. She was relieved when she reached the landing and saw him up and folding the sheets and blanket her mother had given to him.

She smiled watching him silently. “How domestic of you,” she commented after a moment.

Spikecracked a grin, his back to Buffy. “Mornin’ Slayer,” he greeted. Spike finished folding the blanket and placed the pillow on top of the linens. He turned around and his eyes immediately went to the mug in Buffy's hand. The sent of Blood rose from it to Spike's nose and caused his tummy to rumble. Spike nodded to it, “That for me?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Who else would it be for?” She crossed the room and extended the mug to Spike. “It’s a perfect ninety-eight point six. I checked.”

"Thanks." Spike smirked, lifting the mug to his mouth. He paused just before putting his lips to the rim. HIs eyes squinched as he looked into mug, taking in the lumps in the dark crimson liquid. "Hey, is that...Weetabix?"

Buffy’s lips curved up in a smile, as she presented him a spoon from behind her back. “Blood wasn’t the only new item Mom added to her grocery list. I guess I must’ve mentioned that you like it mixed in with the blood.”

“You know,” Spike began, “you and your mum better be careful with the hospitality, or I just might just never wanna leave.”

Buffy thought she wouldn’t mind him sticking around for a while. But, on second thought, she figured it might get awkward with her mother around. Three’s Company, Hellmouth style? Er...no. She so did not want to go there.

“Well, tell her thanks for me,” Spike said. He stirred the cereal and blood a bit before taking out a spoonful and putting it in his mouth. “Oh, yeah,” he moaned, eyes closing as he slowly chewed slowly. “Now, that’s what I call a breakfast for champions.”

Buffy snickered, wrinkling her nose. Her laughter died abruptly as Spike’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and ran along the seam of his lips. Buffy felt her breath catch and her body temperature go well above the norm. She looked away, taking a step back, and fanned herself discreetly.

“So, um,” she began , clearing her throat, “I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to come to the library with me. I need to give Giles the info about the new Slayer. And, seeing as how Giles is the king of details, I’m sure he’ll want to hear everything about your... encounter with Faith.”

“Sure,”Spike replied. “I’ve got no problem givin’ Watcherman the facts. But don’t you think it’d be better to do so at a less lethal time of day?”

Buffy’s lips twitched. “That or we can just take the tunnels. It’s how Angel always got around during the day....” Buffy’s words drifted off as she realized that she had just said Angel’s name and it hadn’t come with the feeling of her heart being in a vise. It made her feel guilty. Shouldn’t she be in more pain after having lost the love of her life? Thinking about Angel now brought back the image of him as decomposing corpse from her dream the night before. And him telling her to go to hell.

She shivered.

“You all right, pet?” Spike asked, concerned.

Buffy shook herself. “Yeah. Fine,” she assured. “So we better get going. You are coming, right?”

Spike was still looking at her with narrowed eyes. He didn’t believe for a second she was fine. But, he didn’t want to push.

“Sure,” he said. “Ready when you are.”

~*~*~*~

The sewers to the high school lead up into the boiler room. Spike and Buffy entered it just as the warning bell for first period was pealing. They waited a few minutes after they heard the second bell sound before venturing up to the main floor— to allow time for the hallways to clear. Buffy poked her head out first, looking both ways for any signs of the little troll they call a principal. Once she established that the coast was clear, she and Spike cut down the hall toward the library.

They were about twenty feet away from the door when Spike caught the sound of the now familiar, husky voice of the new Slayer It seemed like Faith had beaten Buffy to the punch in informing Giles of her arrival. Spike’s footsteps slowed. He didn’t think Buffy was going to like being unexpectedly greeted by the sight of her counterpart for a second time. But, due to the her brisk clip with which Buffy walked, she was already ahead of Spike and getting ready to push through the doors.

“Ugh, pet,” Spike spoke up . Buffy paused and looked back at him, her brow pinched together.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“You might wanna brace yourself,” Spike began. But, before he could say the rest, a raspy chuckle tinkled through the library doors . The sound was loud enough that it was heard even by Buffy’s human hearing. and her body stiffened in response.

Teeth clenched, the Slayer spun around and burst through the double doors. Spike was hot on her heels. Buffy entered the room and was greeted with a familiar scene: all of her friends gathered around Faith, looking at her with adoration and intent as she sat crossed-legged up on the table. Even Giles appeared to be taken in by her charms. Buffy was highly disappointed, not to mention pissed off, with her Watcher.

“What up, B?” Faith greeted . “I’ve been waitin’ for you.” She unfolded her legs and slithered— like a snake, Buffy thought— off the table. “Been having a blast getting to know G, here.” She nodded her head towards Giles, with that the same coquettish half-smile that she had been giving Spike the night before. The Watcher, however, did not seem as indifferent to the action though. Giles had to duck his head down to hide a his blush and a pleased smile.

“Damn, girl,” Faith said as she trotted Buffy’s way, “you sure lucked out in the Watcher department. If I’d of known that they came this young and cute, I’d have requested a transfer.”

Spike rolled his eyes at the comment. Buffy grimaced. “Okay,” she said, clearly wigged, “raise your hand if, ewe!”

Xander feebly put up his hand. Willow, Buffy noticed, disturbingly did not.

“Yes,” Giles cleared his throat, remembering himself and recovering from the flattery he wasn’t used to getting. “Good morning, Buffy. Um, Faith has just finished explaining about what occurred last night. And has since then been telling us about the rather interesting exploits she’s had in the limited time since her calling. Did you know that one time she actually wrestled an-”

“Alligator,” Buffy finished tightly. “Yes. I’ve heard.”

“Erm, yes...” Giles fumbled in the face of his Slayer’s clear irritation. “Good.” He again cleared his throat, trying to dispel the tension. “Ah, Spike,” he Giles said, redirecting himself, “hello.”

Spike gave the man a neutral nod, “Rupert.”

“Hey, Soulman,” Faith said. “Ugh, ouch. Did I really do all that?” She gestured to Spike’s face. “Man. I’ve never had a chance to get a real good look at my handy work – bein’ as most of the vamps I fight are kinda on the dusty side before any bruises get a chance to show.”

Spike’s lip twitched a little. Buffy’s blood pressure rocketed.

“I just brought Spike along so he could give you some details about what went down last night,” Buffy told Giles.

“Yes. That was very good thinking,” Giles acknowledged. “But I think that Faith already touched on all the important details.”

“I’m sure she did,” Buffy said, her voice holding a hostile note that no one seemed to notice – except, of course, for Spike. But then, he always noticed everything.

“Well,” Spike interceded, “I guess I’m not really needed here, after all, then.”

“Nope,” Xander concurred, “you’re not needed at all.” Willow elbowed him in the side while . Everyone else ignored the comment.

“Guess I’ll jus’ be headin’ back then,” Spike said.

“I’ll walk with you,” Buffy offered.

“Uh, Buffy,” Willow spoke up, “don’t you have that make-up Health Science examine in a bit?”

Crap. She had forgotten about that. “Yeah,” Buffy mumbled. “I do. And, actually, I could use a little coaching...”

“You can hang out with us while Buffy’s testing!” Willow offered Faith. In her excitement at the prospect of hanging out with the new Slayer, Willow had missed Buffy's plea for help.“You wanna?”

“Please say yes,” Xander begged, “and bring your stories.”

Buffy pressed her lips together and sucked in her cheeks, trying not to appear bothered by being slighted by her friends yet again. She glanced over at Spike. He gave her a small, sympathetic smile that helped dull the ache. She smiled back.

“Cool,” replied Faith. “See ya, B. We can patrol tonight. Two Slayers on the prowl. The Hellmouth better watch out!”

“Gee. I can’t wait,.” Buffy replied acerbically, that brief feeling of calm vanishing.

“Later, G,” Faith called to Giles, “we’ll talk weapons later.” As she passed by Spike, she leaned in and murmured, “Later, Soulman.”

Buffy clenched her fists. Despite Spike’s saying that he had no interest in Faith, she couldn’t quite believe he could be so indifferent to her charms. If even Giles could be taken in...

“Right,” Spike said after the others had gone and it was just him with the Slayer and her Watcher, “I guess I’ll be taking off then.”

“Well, hey,” Buffy said. “I still have a little time before my exam. Maybe I could walk with you for a bit.”

“Actually, Buffy,” Giles interjected, “I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment. I’ve been having a bit of trouble with the binding spell for Acathala.”

Buffy turned to Giles, annoyed. “It can’t wait?”

“I would rather think not,” he replied primly.

“Watcher’s right,” Spike asserted. “After all the hell that stone ugly thing caused, you’ll be wantin’ to make sure he stays dormant so he doesn’t cause any more trouble. We can catch up later.”

Buffy softened a little. “Okay.”

“All right. See ya later then.” He gave Giles another nod. “Rupert.”

“Spike.”

“Oh,” Spike said as an afterthought as his hand was poised to push open the door, “by the way, good luck on your test, pet.”

Buffy smiled. “Thanks. ”

As Spike traveled the tunnels, he patted his jacket pocket, searching for his pack of cigarettes; . hHe didn’t find them and realized that. He figured they must have fallen out when he’d took taken the jacket off to go to sleep last the night before,. hHis lighter, too, was missing.

“Bugger.”

He Spike sighed and turned to the left, heading back towards Buffy’s house

~*~*~*~

When Spike came into the basement, he found Joyce there, tending to the laundry. Her back was to him, so he cleared his throat gently to alert her to his presence. Buffy’s momther jumped at the sound and spun around, her hand on her chest.

“Sorry.” Spike held up a hand. “Didn’t mean to frighten you, love.”

Joyce chuckled softly, clearing away her tension. She waved a dismissive hand his way.“It’s all right, Spike. I’m just not used to anyone being in the house this time of day.” Her brow furrowed. “I thought you left with Buffy.”

“Er, yeah., I did. But, as it turns out, I wasn’t needed to explain things to the Watcher after all, so... I came back ‘cause I couldn’t find my smokes. Have you...?”

“Oh!” Joyce set down the towel she had been folding, and crossed over to a shelf. She took down Spike’s cigarettes and lighter. Smiling, she put them out to Spike. “Here you go.”

Spike sighed, “Thanks, pet.” He began to tap one out, but paused. He looked up at Joyce with a cocked eyebrow. “Do you mind if I...?”

Joyce waved her hand. “Go right ahead.”

Spike smiled gratefully, “Thanks.” He slid one out. His brows pulled together as he noticed the pack seemed a bit light. He could have sworn he'd only had a couple.

“Oh, all right, you caught me!” Joyce confessed , though unprovoked. “I swiped a couple. Please don’t tell Buffy.”

Spike’s lips curved backup. “Your Ssecret’s safe with me,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” she Joyce replied. “I’m not usually a smoker, you know. I mean, I was when I was younger. But I gave up the minute I found out that I was pregnant with Buffy. And I’ve more or less been good about not smoking since then. Occasionally, I’ll sneak one or two here or there— when I’m stressed with work, or...” she sighed, her excuse trailing off.

Spike could tell that her next words were likely something about Buffy. He couldn’t blame Joyce, he supposed. Spike couldn’t imagine what it must be like for her, being the mother of the Slayer, not knowing whether or not when your child leaves the house if she’ll come back alive. In fact, Spike thought Joyce had a remarkable self-control if she was only sneaking cigarettes here and there. He figured his own habit had probably doubled since he met the girl.

Spike held out the pack to Joyce. “Care to join me?”

Joyce bit her bottom lip, looking tempted. Still, she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, I really shouldn’t.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Spike prodded, almost not able to resist. Guess It seemed that he wasn’t quite the reformed bad boy after all.

Joyce clucked her tongue. A small impish smile at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, well, maybe just one.” She pulled one out of the pack. Spike smiled and lit it for her. Joyce closed her eyes, a look of ecstasy flitting over her features. She blew out a cloud of smoke murmuring, “God help me, I know they’re bad for me, but I love these things.”

Spike snickered, lighting up one for himself. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“You know what goes well with smoking?” Joyce asked. Spike could think of several things... But Buffy being the current object of his affection, he didn’t think any of the things going through his head would be appropriate to discuss with her mother. “Coffee,” Joyce answered, much to his relief. “I just put on a pot. Would you care for some? Or we still have blood in the fridge if you’d prefer?”

“Coffee sounds good,”Spike replied.

Joyce smiled. “All right.” She crossed the room and started up the stairs. Spike followed.

“Um,” Joyce said as she opened the basement door. “Should I put the blinds down for you?” She gestured to the kitchen window.

Spike waved a hand. “Nah. I should be fine at the table. There’s not too much direct sunlight coming through over there.” He walked over and took a seat at the shadier side of the kitchen table.

“All right.” Joyce crossed over to the cupboard. She opened one up and reached to the back of one of the higher shelves— her smoldering cigarette perched between her lips. Spike watched her curiously, thinking it was an odd spot to keep the mugs, especially given that Buffy’s was so short. However, understanding hit him when Joyce pulled out an ashtray. She brought it over to the table and set it down.

“Here we go.” She set her cigarette down in one of the slits before resuming going to the counter to get the coffee. Spike flicked the ash from his fag over the ashtray .

“Do you take sugar or cream?” Joyce inquired.

Spike shook his head. “Black’s good for me,” he told her.

Joyce put a splash of cream and a spoonful of sugar in one of the mugs, leaving the other alone. She brought them over to the table.

“So,” Spike ventured after a moment. “Joyce, besides smokin’, what other bad behaviour did you ‘ave when you were younger?” he asked, a sly grin curving up one corner of his mouth. “Bet you were a real rebel back in your day.”

Joyce giggled; it was a pleasant sound. It reminded Spike a bit of Buffy’s laugh. The woman blushed slightly. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said. “Though, I had a bit of a rebellious streak, I suppose. There was this one time when a friend of mine and I– ” She giggled again at the memory, shaking her head. “Oh no, I’d better not tell that story. If it ever got back to Buffy, I’d never live it down.”

“Oh, come on,” he goaded. “I’m real good at keepin’ confidences. I’d never tell soul, I swear.” He held up three fingers on his right hand and put his left over his chest, “Vamp’s honor.”

Joyce chuckled. “I trust you. But, I’m still not telling you the story. Some things are best left in the past.”

Spike gave a soft, thoughtful smile. “I reckon that’s true.”

A moment of silence ticked by.

“Spike,” Joyce said, “I’m actually really glad that you’re here now. I wanted to have a chance to speak with you without my daughter acting as a referee, telling me which topics are allowed and which aren’t.”

Spike snickered. “She’s a bit overprotective, I suppose.” He sighed. “But, you can talk to me about whatever you like. Go ahead.”

“Well, actually, it’s Buffy I want to talk about,” Joyce elaborated. “Or, more specifically, you and Buffy. About the time you two spent together over the summer.”

Spike’s jaw set. He was suddenly uncomfortable. He thought for sure that Joyce was about to give him a piece of her mind about what she thought of him and his daughter’s co-habitation. Buffy had told him that her mother had seemed all right with the arrangement, but Spike had had his doubts. How could any mother be all right with knowing her daughter was all alone in a house with a strange man for weeks on end? Especially one that had tried to kill the girl less than a year ago.

Spike nodded, accepting his fate. “All right, Joyce,” he said somberly. “Say whatever you need to say.”

“I want to say, thank you.”

Spike was sure that he heard her wrong. His eyes squinched and he leaned in a bit. “Beg your pardon?”

Joyce sighed. “I’m thankful that you were there for Buffy after what she went through.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine what it was like for her – and lord knows she doesn’t talk to me about it. And I understand that, I do. I know I never shared much with my mother at that age, and my biggest secret was, well, sneaking smokes.” She waved her cigarette in the air. “As much as I would love to be the one Buffy confides in, I accept that perhaps there are certain things I don’t understand about her. Things that no one can understand – except you. You seem to be able to do the impossible, you can relate to Buffy on her level.” She paused, pulling on her cigarette. “I have a bit of a confession to make, I heard you two talking a little last night before I came in.You really seem to know what to say to her, to make her feel better. Well, I’m just really glad that she has someone like you in her life. So, thank you.”

Spike smiled. “No thanks necessary, Joyce. If anything, I should be thanking you for bringing Buffy into the world and turnin’ her into the woman she is now. She’s truly a remarkable girl. I’m the one that’s lucky; she lets me be a part of her life.”

Joyce smiled, touched by Spike’s affection for her daughter. It reinforced her good opinion of him and his role in Buffy’s life. “You’re a really great guy, Spike. You know that? It’s going to help me sleep a lot better knowing your on my daughter’s side.”

Spike smiled back at her. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that Joyce, I always will be.”

Spike was dozing, his eyelids drooping as if they were weighted down.He was knackered after not getting much sleep the night before. Not that vampires needed that much, but he was used to getting a few hours anyway. Spike hadn’t been able to sleep a winkthe night before, what with being in Buffy’s house. He could feel her presence above him, hear her heart beating even from two floors up. Spike knew which heartbeat was hers. He knew the distinct rhythm of it. It was the beat of a Slayer’s heart and wasslightly faster than that of most humans, even at rest.

Spike had spent many a night listening to the beat of Buffy’s heart while she slept, back when she’d been staying in the mansion with him. Spike found that he had missed the comforting melody of it. Which was why he didn’t want to sleep when he was at her house. He didn’t know when he’d get the chance to hear the peaceful sound again,so he wanted to savour it while he could.

On top of that, Spike’s rest had been delayed a few hours more as he spent most of the morning chatting with Joyce. The muscles of his mouth twitched into just a of a smirk when recalling the conversation. The senior Summers lady had a lot more in her than Spike reckoned anyone gave her credit for. He wasrather fond of the woman and he could see that Buffy owed her spunk to her mum.

Spike let out a moan at the thought of the Slayer. Her face flashing behind his heavy-lidded eyes. That sweet smile of hers, that rare smile, curving up her full lips.

"Ah, Buffy," he murmured lazily, tiredness slurring his speech a little.

"Spike?"

The vampire’s eyes snapped open, now alert fromthe sound of her voice. Spikebolted upright, wondering if he had slipped into a dream.

"Spike, are you here?"

He shook himself, knowing now that it hadn’t been a sleep-drunk illusion. If it had been, there wouldn’t be that quivering, upset note in Buffy’s voice.

Concerned for her,Spike was on his feet in an flash, and moving towards carrying the Slayer as quickly as hecould.

"Pet?" Spike said as soon as he came into the foyer and saw Buffy standing there. Her back was to him. "What’s wrong?"

Buffy spun around at the sound of Spike’s voice. Her mouth was open with the intention of saying ‘hello’but the greeting died in her throat as her eyes scanned the vampire’s bare chest. They stayed glued there for a moment too long before flicking up to his dishevelled hair. Buffy redirected her gaze to the floor swiftly.

"O-oh," she stammered, trying to regain her composure. "You were sleeping, weren’t you? Of course you were sleeping," she answered herself before Spike had the chance, "you’re a vampire. Vampire’s plus daytime equals sleeping." She took a break pausefrom her sheepish rambling to sigh. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll go." She spun around on her heels, ready to bolt.

"Oi, don’t be daft, Slayer," Spike called out, stopping Buffy from leaving with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Come on inside," he insisted, ushering her into the sitting room. "Have a seat, yeah?" He waved a hand towards the sofa. Buffy took Spike’s suggestion and sat down. The vampiretook a seat on the coffee table directly in front of her.

"Now, tell me what’s wrong, pet," he urged. "What’s happened that’s got you upset?"

Buffy sighed, rubbing a hand on her forehead. "It’s nothing really," she began, trying to play down whatever it was that was bothering her. But, by the way she was sniffling, Spike could tell it really wasn’t nothing.

"I’m probably making a bigger deal outof it than it really is. I’m being silly."

"Well, why don’t you tell me about it and let me be the judge of that, eh?" Spike offered.

"Okay," Buffy mumbled. She licked her lips anxiously. "Well, uh, do you remember that guy from the other night, the one I danced with?"

How could Spikeforget him? The memory of seeing Buffy in the wanker’s arms, his hands all over her, was permanently ingrained in Spike’s memory. "Er... yeah," he said. "You mean that Scooter chap?"

"Scott," Buffy corrected.

"Right. Scott," Spike repeated, suppressing the impulse to roll his eyes. "What about him?" he prompted. If that boy did anything to Buffy... He flexed his fingers at his sides, trying to keep them from balling into fists.

"He... asked me out," she told him.

Spike nearly laughed. He couldn’t decide if the boy had stones or was just an idiot for pursuing Buffy after the other night. Spike thought that the Slayer had made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in the boy, especially after the way she’d brushed him off in favour to dance with Spike.

"He asked me to a Buster Keaton festival – as friends," Buffy continued. "And I... said yes."

"Oh." Spike was surprised, but he tried not to let it show. "Okay," he said, keeping his voice neutral, "so?"

"Oh, um," Buffy stammered. She had expected him react a little more strongly to her news of making plans with another guy. SheBuffy shook the thought away. Making Spike jealous was not her purpose for coming here – though, it might have been a perk and maybe would’ve made her feel better.

Buffy cleared her throat, "Anyway, he gave me something. A ring, to symbolize friendship, he said," she went on, hiding her dejection. "It sort of freaked me out."

A ring, huh? Well, that Scott sure does move quickly; . He was already doling out the gifts before the first date.

"And what’s the problem with it, then?" Spike asked. "It clash with your outfit or somethin’?"

Buffy looked up at him, her big puppy-dog eyes full of hurt, and not a bit of amusement. Spike immediately felt guilty for making the joke; he was letting his jealousy cloud his judgement.

"I’m sorry, pet," Spike said, he and sighed. "I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinkin’. Hell," he chuckled, "if I thought before speaking I might never say anything at all."

At that, Buffy did crack a tiny smile.

"So, what is it then?" Spike prodded, his tone gentle. "Why does’s this ring have you so upset?"

Buffy slowly opened her right hand - it had been held in a tight fist since she’d walked inside. She held her hand open to Spike. Carefully, he took up the ring and asked, "So, this it?"

"It’s, um, just like it," Buffy murmured, not looking at him. "But, Scott didn’t give me this one."

Spike narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the vaguely familiar symbol on the silver band;. itIt seemed vaguely familiar. Then he remembered. It was a Claddagh ring, an old Celtic token.

"Oh," Spike observed, and that was all he had to say. Buffy knew that he now understood.

She took the ring back from Spike and stared down at it as she said, "I had a dream about him last night – it was horrible. It was the first I’ve had in a while, actually." She snickered caustically. "You know, I had actually started to think that they’d stopped completely. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Not stupid, pet," Spike assured. "Just hopeful. I get it. I know how much the dreams can hurt."

"Do you still dream about her?" Buffy wondered. "About Drusilla?"

Spike nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sometimes."

Buffy took a breath and let it out on a sigh. "When I opened that little pink box and saw that ring," she shook her head. "I totally wigged. I’m sure Scott thinks I’m a complete wacko now."

Oh. So that’s what this is about then. "Well, I’m sure if you explain to him about the significance of the ring – not the details of course – he’ll still want to take you out. He’d be a bloody idiot if he didn’t."

"I don’t care about that," Buffy said.

"You don’t?" Spike held back his excitement.

"No," she insisted. "The only reason I said yes to Scott was because... I saw Faith flirting with him the other day, and well, he liked me first!"

Spike couldn’t help but smirk.

"It isn’t about Scott," Buffy went on. "It’s just that seeing the ring and having that dream... it’s brought up a lot of stuff. It’s made me realize that I haven’t really been dealing with things the way I need to."

Spike nodded his head, coming to an internal understanding. He wasn’t competing with a school boy after all.; Hhe was competing with a ghost. and Tthat was much worse.

Buffy closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. "I also said yes because I’m trying to move on," she continued quietly. "Like everyone keeps saying I should do. That it’s what I need to do."

Spike’s brow pulled together in a frown. "But, you don’t want to move on?"

Buffy sighed and licked her lips. She stared down at the Claddagh ring, rubbing it between her fingers. "It’s not that I don’t want to," she murmured. "I’m afraid to."

Buffy cleared her throat against a lump forming there. "Sometimes I think that maybe you and Drusilla weren’t the only ones cursed that day," she went on quietly."I think maybe I got cursed too."

Spike cocked his head to the side., A furrow pulling between his brows and an eyebrow raising in question as to Buffy’s meaning.

"But," Buffy continued, "since I already have a soul, maybe I just got stuck with the other part - not being able to ever truly be happy. Because if I let myself be happy for even a moment, then that means I’ve stopped feeling guilty, and I shouldn’t be allowed to ever not feel guilty for what I’ve done. I deserve to be punished."

Spike sat silently as he contemplated the Slayer’s words. He pursed his lips as he thought of the right response. After a moment, he clucked his tongue into the silence and said, "You’re not cursed, Buffy." His tone was steady and gentle. "And as for you deserving to be punished, you’re the only one that sees it that way. And if anybody’s punishin’ you, it’s you doin’ it yourself," he affirmed.

Buffy looked up at him, a crinkle between her eyes. The green of her irises shining brightly with her tears. Buffy licked her lips and wiped a stray drop from her cheek. "You don’t understand," she wailed, her voice low and fierce.

"Don’t understand what?" Spike shot back. "Guilt?" he scoffed. "Trust me, Slayer, if there’s one thing I’ve come to know well in these last few months of soul havin’, it’s how to feel guilty."

"It’s not the same," Buffy argued. "You killed because you didn’t have a soul. Because you were being controlled by a demon. You didn’t know better, you didn’t have a choice!"

Spike looked down at the ground. "Wouldn’t be too sure about that one, pet," he whispered. It had all seemed like such fun at the time…could he really have enjoyed the killing so much if he wasn’t choosing to do it? Spike sniffed, shaking off his own existential crisis. It wasn’t about him at the moment.

"And while we’re on the subject of choices," Spike forged on, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "What exactly was yours again? Kill Angelus or the let the entire world be sucked into hell? One monster for billions of innocents," he scoffed. "Oh yeah, a real toss up there. Regular ‘Sophie’s choice, that is."

Buffy tried not to get distracted by Spike’s apparent knowledge of the Meryl Streep oeuvre and shook her head hard against his reasoning. "No. You don’t understand," she told him again.

"Yeah, well, I’m starting to agree with you on that end, pet," Spike replied. He sighed. "Look, Buffy. I’m trying here, yeah. But, you’re not making it easy on a bloke. Where’s all this comin’ from all of a sudden? ‘Cause I thought we’d already covered this ground. You did what you had to do. And, yeah, it’s perfectly reasonable for you to feel bad over it – you loved Angel. But you gotta remember that the part of him that you loved was long gone before you sent him to hell. He wasn’t coming back."

"But what if he was?," Buffy whispered.

Spike blew out a breath. "Is that what this is all about then?" he asked. "The ‘what ifs’s? You can’t let yourself wonder on them too heavily, love. You’ll drive yourself batty thinkin’ about what could have been. ‘Specially since you can’t change it."

"What if it wasn’t a ‘what if’?" Buffy cried, wincing slightly at the awkwardness of her phrasing.

Spike’s brow furrowed. "Losing me again, love," he told her.

Buffy swallowed thickly and took a breath. "Angel’s soul," she began, keeping her voice low so that it would come out steady, "it was restored. I saw it. Right before the portal closed, his soul was returned. Angel was back."

Spike’s just stared at her for a moment. For perhaps the first time in his existence, he was at a loss for words. His head was spinning with too many of them to choose. Spike opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. He swallowed thickly and coughed to clear his throat before finally speaking.

"Why didn’t you ever tell me?" he wondered.

Buffy’s shoulders lifted briefly in a small shrug. "I guess I was just trying to pretend that it wasn’t real. That I had just imagined it."

Spike licked his lips, latching on to Buffy’s words. "Well, maybe that was it then. Maybe you were–"

"No,." Buffy’s voice, low and firm, cut him off. She could remember the look in Angel’s eyes just before he was taken away. The confusion, the hurt, the betrayal. And that vital spark deep within their depths; his soul. She closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "No, it was real. I know it."

Spike was silent for a moment. He looked at Buffy and saw seeing the pain she was felt. Spike hated that. He dithered about taking her in his arms, rubbing his hands on his thighs to busy them.

"God, I’m so sorry, love," Spike murmured. "I had no idea. I mean, I knew you were goin’ through hell with all of this. But, knowing that Angel was..." his sentence drifted off. He was still having trouble getting a grip on this new information.

"Well, given that it’s a wonder how you’re still standin’ upright, you’re an even stronger person than I ever thought." A small smile made the corner of his mouth twitched at the corner of his mouth. "An’ that’s saying something ‘cause I’ve always thought you were the strongest person I’ve ever met."

Instead of getting the smile Spike had hoped for, Buffy’s face crumbled at his words.

"Don’t," she choked, shaking her head. "Don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t deserve to feel better!" She shot to her feet and started pacing the room.

Spike rose to his feet as well, and gently grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, halting her.

"Oi!" he said, as she fought against him. "Easy, pet."

Buffy stilled. She kept her eyes fixed on the hard surface of Spike’s chest. She remained quietly seething quietly, her jaw flexing.

"Hey," Spike murmured, "look at me." He crooked a finger under her chin and tipped her head up.

Buffy allowed Spike to lift her head, but turned it to the side when he did.

Spike sighed. "Angel wouldn’t want this for you," he told her.

Buffy scoffed. "How would you know what Angel would want?" she countered. "You never knew him – not the way I did. You only ever knew the worst of him."

Spike pursed his lips and nodded. "Right about that, love," he conceded. "I only ever had the displeasure of knowing the bastard without a soul. But it, doesn’t really matter. I know well enough to know that he loved you. And being someone who knows what it’s like to love, I can say with some authority that he wouldn’t want to see you punishing yourself like this. He’d want you to be able to be happy."

Buffy sniffed. Her lips remained sealed in a thin, stubborn line.

"Well, think about it this way," Spike tried again, "if the roles were reversed, would you want Angel to go through the rest of his miserable existence miserably.? If there was a chance he could be happy, wouldn’t you want it for him.?"

Buffy’s face softened. "Well, no," she admitted after a moment. "I mean, maybe after a century or two of mourning me, if somehow someone came along that could make him happy..."

Spike smiled.

Finally, Buffy turned her eyes to his and smiled back. Spike’s hand was on her cheek, and Buffy reached up to covered it with her own.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I don’t know how you do it, but you always seem to be able to make me feel better."

Spike’s thumb stroked Buffy’s cheekbone. "It’s my pleasure."

They stood there a moment, just staring at each other, until finally, Buffy stepped back and looked away.

She cleared her throat. "Well, uh, sorry I talked your ear off there," she said lightly, dispelling the tension that always seemed to build between them whenever they’d looked into each other’s eyes for too long.

Spike chuckled, shaking himself. "Er, no problem," he assured. "I’ve got another one if you need to vent anything else."

Buffy chuckled. "Rain cheque," she told him. "I should probably get going, now though. Faith and I are supposed to do some recon on this hoof-handed Khaki trousers guy," she explained.

Spike nodded in understanding. "Right. Well, good luck with that."

Buffy turned to go, but spun back a second later.

"So, do you think I should tell Giles?" she asked. "About Angel, I mean. Do you think maybe that’s why the binding spell for Acathala isn’t working?"

Spike nodded thoughtfully. "Could be. ," he reckoned. "Either way, it couldn’t hurt for you to let the Watcher in on the secret. Might be good for you to talk to him about it."

Buffy nodded, looking contemplative. "Right," she murmured. "Well, I guess I better..." she hooked a thumb over her shoulder towards the door.

"Uh, yeah," Spike replied. "I’ll see ya later, pet."

"Bye, Spike," Buffy returned with a smile. "And, um, thanks again, for everything."

"Anytime."

Spike watched her go. A pain twisted in his chest for what she must be going through. He also felt a small twinge of sympathy for his grandsire currently residing in hell.

Poor sod, he thought. Ah, hell, now I’m feelin’ bad for the great poof! What’s next? Lousy, ruddin’ soul.

Spike let out a groan and turned to head back to his bed. He paused, a wrinkle forming in his brow as something Buffy said just penetrated his mind.

Hold on a tick... Who the hell’s Khaki Trousers?

Spike’s eyes slid to the silent Slayer at his side. They’d been walking for half an hour now and neither had said a word. Taking strolls together was an activity that they shared regularly. Buffy often showed up just after sundown and the pair would set off. It was mostly just around the block a few times - a routine that had started earlier in the summer when Buffy was still staying at the mansion. It had been every night then, and had sometimes lasted for hours. However, it had been reduced, now that Buffy had schoolwork and patrolling to do, as well as hanging out with her friends.

And making new ones, Spike thought bitterly, thinking of the boy that Buffy had been spending a lot of time with lately. Spike had been surprised when Buffy had told him that she had gone ahead and had been to the movies with the boy. Spike had thought she wasn’t interested; he could have sworn that she had said as much.

Spike shook his head at himself as he reached a hand into his pocket for his cigarettes. He flipped open the top of the pack and shook one out. Spike popped it between his teeth and dropped the pack back in his pocket before taking out his lighter.

Buffy stopped, knowing that Spike had to be still in order to get his cigarette lit or else the wind would blow out the lighter’s flame. She watched him puff on the stick until smoke started to waft up from the tip. Spike flicked the lighter’s top and it closed with a clink that echoed in the silence. He put it back in his jacket and the two resumed walking on quietly.

Spike sighed when he raised his head and saw the mansion looming in the distance. He was almost home, which meant that it was almost time for Buffy to go. He hated this part.

“Don’t ‘spose you’d fancy poppin’ in for a bit?” he ventured. “There’s still some of that Chubby Hubby ice-cream you bought in the fridge.”

Buffy let out a little groan of regret. “Man that sounds tempting,” she said. “But I’ve kinda already got plans.”

Spike nodded, his jaw tensing reflexively. “Right,” he snipped. “Goin’ out with Scooter again?”

The vampire’s tone made Buffy’s head snap up to look at him. His cheeks were sucked in and his eyes were cool as he looked ahead into the distance. He’s jealous, she realised with just a tad too much exuberance.

Spike’s eyes flicked over to look at her and he misinterpreted the smile spreading across her lips. Heh, so much for not being interested in the milksop.

“Actually, no, I’m not seeing Scott, tonight,” Buffy informed him, emphasizing Scott’s name, which she knew Spike had gotten wrong on purpose. “I have plans with someone else.”

Spike’s brows shot up. “Someone else?” So, she’s seeing some other bloody idiot as well. That’s just grand. “So what happened to poor Scooter then?”

“Oh nothing happened to him,” Buffy said, deciding to just ignore Spike’s blunder this time. “We’re still hanging out – but it’s just casual.”

“Casual, eh? And what about this other person, that just casual too?”

Buffy shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, we have a real connection. It could be serious. We just have so much in common.”

Spike rolled his tongue over the inside of his cheek and ground his teeth. “And just who might this new lucky chap be then?” he asked, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

“There isn’t one,” Buffy stated.

Spike’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t one what?”

“A...chap,” Buffy elaborated. “It’s a girl.”

Spike stopped short, spluttering on the smoke he’d just inhaled.

Buffy’s eyes widened and she started whopping Spike on the back as he bowled over. “Are you okay?”

Spike held up his hand and nodded.

Buffy frowned contemplatively as she watched the dead man coughing. How can a vampire choke when he doesn’t breathe? She shook the thought away as Spike straightened and got himself under control.

“Right, okay,” he wheezed. “You wanna run that one by me again, pet? You said you’re seeing another girl.”

Buffy smiled sweetly and nodded. “That’s right.” She whipped around on her heel and started walking again.

Spike remained frozen for a moment, his mind reeling, before he lurched after her.

“You and another girl?” he said again, still trying to wrap his head round the new development. Well that would be just bloody perfectif the Slayer turned out to be a lesbian. Then he’d never have a chance with her. Not that he had that much of one now. But still...

“Yup,” Buffy chirped.

“When the hell did this happen?” Spike demanded. How could he not have known? Buffy had had no qualms about telling him about that git Scott, so what had stopped her from telling him about this chit, whoever the hell she was?

“Oh, it’s fairly recent,” Buffy informed loftily. “I’ve only known her for a little while. But, things have taken off pretty quickly.”

“And, er, just what have the two of you got planned for the evening?”Spike enquired with interest.

Buffy shrugged. “Just the usual stuff. But no doubt it’ll end in a lot of sweating and grunting.”

Spike nearly fell over. He swallowed hard. “Sweating and grunting?” he echoed, voice strained.

“Well, yeah. It’s kind of unavoidable, the sweating and grunting. Goes hand in hand with the s...laying.”

Spike took a long blink and shook his head. “Wait.... the slaying?”

Buffy smiled. “Yes, slaying. As in vampires. As I am a Vampire Slayer. Like Faith, the new girl I’ve been hanging out with recently with whom I have so much in common.”

Spike took his bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard to stop himself from cringing at his own gullibility. He let out a chuckle. “Of course. Faith. You two have been bondin’ over the Chosen business.”

“Well, yeah, duh,” Buffy replied. “Why, what did you think I was talking about?” she asked innocently.

Spike sucked in his cheeks, pursed his lips, and gave her a look that said ‘You know exactly what I was thinking about’.

“Geez,” Buffy remarked. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a dirty mind?”

Spike chuckled. “Many times, pet. Many times.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, but smiled despite herself. The pair began walking again.

“So, you and the new girl are gettin’ along better,then” Spike brought up after a tick. “That’s good, I s’pose.”

“Yeah, we are,” Buffy acknowledged. “After that whole Kakistos thing I realised that I might have misjudged her a bit. She really came through. And after what she’s been through, what happened to her Watcher...” Buffy’s words drifted off as she shook her head slowly. “If anything like that ever happened to Giles, I don’t think I’d be able to deal half as well as Faith has.”

“Well, I dunno if I’d agree with you on that, pet. My opinion being tha’ you can handle anything. But, I still think it’s good that you an’ the other Slayer are gettin’ on. Slayer’s are like heads, two are better than one.” Spike huffed. “Now there’s somethin’ I bet no vampire’s ever said.”

“Well, you’ve never exactly been your average vampire,” Buffy rejoined with a smile.

Spike looked sideways at her, eyebrows raised. “Is that a good thing?”

Buffy met his gaze. “Very. I kill average vampires.”

One corner of Spike’s mouth curved up. “Well, in that case, glad I’m not average,” he said. “So does that mean I’m above or below?”

Buffy’s brow scrunched up in that adorable way it did when she was thinking. Spike smirked, looking at her.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Let’s go with above. Above sounds better.”

Spike’s smile grew. “Above it is.”

Buffy met his eye and smiled in turn.

Both of their smiles turned to frowns as they looked forward and saw they were only a few yards from the mansion.

“So, looks like were here,” Buffy needlessly pointed out.

“Looks like,” Spike concurred letting out a disappointed breath.

“Then, I guess I should get going,” Buffy ventured.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want Faith thinkin’ you’ve stood her up,” Spike replied. “That one’s got a bit of a temper on her.” He rubbed his jaw.

Buffy nodded with a laugh. “Yeah, so I’ve witnessed.”

Spike rocked on his heels, hunching his shoulders. “Guess this is goodnight then.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Buffy replied. “Unless you wanna tag along with me to the cemetery?”

“Ah, no.” Spike waved his hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Buffy insisted.

“Well that’s right kind of you to offer, but I don’t think I’m up for it,” Spike declined. He wasn’t too eager to meet up again with the new Slayer. He still felt shaken about the way he had reacted during their fight the other night. “I’m looking forward to a nice, quiet night. And ‘sides, it’s Wednesday, I gotta find out if Dawson and Joey are finally gonna shag or not.”

Buffy laughed.

Nope, Spike definitely wasn’t an average vampire.

~*~*~*~

“Hey!” Buffy called out to Faith who was perched on top of a tombstone. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No sweat,” Faith assured her as she hopped down from the headstone.

“I was with Spike,” Buffy explained. “Lost track of time.”

Faith’s lips curled back in a slow smile. “Now that I can understand,” she purred. “I wouldn’t mind losin’ track of time with that boy myself.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Faith said.

Buffy sighed and changed the subject. “So what’s it looking like out here tonight?”

“So far, the things that go bump in the night haven’t been bumpin’,” Faith informed her.

Buffy smirked. “Well, maybe we should try the west end. I think they had a couple of funerals over there last week.”

“Cool,” said Faith. “Lead the way.”

“So what’s it like then?” Faith asked Buffy after a moment.

“Huh?” Buffy replied absently.

“You and Spike,” Faith elaborated. “What’s the deal between you two?”

Buffy shrugged. “No deal. We’re friends. That’s it.”

Faith gave her dubious sideways glance. “You sure about that?”

Buffy stopped. “Yes! God, why will no one take my word for it that Spike is my friend and nothing more?”

Faith chuckled. “Probably because of the hot, sticky sexual tension you two have got going on.”

“We do not,” Buffy refuted.

“If you say so,” Faith conceded, still snickering.

“I do,” Buffy maintained.

Faith shrugged. “Okay then.”

The two Slayers continued walking down the path.

“So, since you and Spike are just buds, does that mean he’s fair game?” Faith ventured after a beat.

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks again and gaped at Faith. “Are you trying to say you’re... interested in Spike?”

“Sure, why the hell the not? That man’s a prime-cut of quality beefcake,” she stated. “It’s a damn shame to let something that fine go to waste. So if you’re not gonna sample the goods...” She let her words drift off, leaving Buffy to fill in the blanks for herself.

“You can’t!” the original Slayer exclaimed.

Faith raised her eyebrows. “I can’t?”

Buffy deflated. “I didn’t mean it like that – I didn’t mean to sound like I was forbidding you. Because, like I said, we’re just friends, so I don’t have the right to do that. It’s just well... You see, Spike is going through a lot of stuff, you know with the getting cursed and all. He’s not in a place where he should be... getting sampled, by anyone. Understand?”

Faith’s lips quirked. “Yeah, I think I get it,” she replied loftily. “All right then, hands off the vamp. What about Scotty boy? He up for grabs? ‘Cause that boy’s pretty grabable himself.”

“My god, is that all you ever think about? Sex?” Buffy blurted out, her voice held a lot more judgement than she intended. “Sorry,” she quickly amended.

Faith shrugged. “Hey, no sweat. It’s true. Slayin’ and screwin’ are what life’s all about – for me anyway.”

Buffy’s brow crinkled. “You really think that way?”

“Sure. Don’t you?”

“No,” Buffy insisted. “Not really, no.”

“Well, I guess you an’ me ain’t got as much in common after all,” Faith said.

“I guess not,” Buffy agreed. “All we really have is– vampires!”

“Guess so.”

“No,” Buffy stated. “I mean, vampires!” She pointed behind Faith.

Faith whirled around just in time to get punched in the face. The blow sent her flying sideways into a gravestone.

Buffy wasted no time and sent a scissor-kick into the face of Faith’s assailant.

Faith gathered herself to her feet, clutching her jaw and smiling. “Well, all right,” she said. “Things are bumpin’ now.”

~*~*~*~

Spike slunk up the walk to the mansion. He always hated parting with Buffy. Being around her was the only good thing in his unlife anymore. Her mere presence quieted the storm that had started churning his head since he had gotten his soul. But, while Buffy helped ease one storm inside him, her presence stirred up another, equally furious one, even deeper down.

Spike wasn’t sure which one was harder to bear, the tumult of guilt he felt over the people he’d harmed, or the unquenchable fire burning in him for Buffy.

The vampire blew out needless air as he climbed the steps to the door. Well, there was only one thing that could help him forget about both – for a few hours at least – and that was mind-numbing, poorly scripted, teen melodrama. Watching other people be tortured by their unrequited feelings helped Spike forget about his own.

Spike pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. He immediately froze, his hackles going up and his spine tingling.

Someone – no, something – was there. A vampire, if Spike’s senses were correct. Which, of course, they were. He had made an effort to be more aware ever since he’d been blindsided by the new Slayer on the block the other night.

Clenching his jaw and balling his fists, Spike took cautious steps as he made his way deeper into the mansion. A scent tickled his nose. Spike paused and closed his eyes, taking in a deep pull of air through his nostrils.

Is that... sulphur?

His eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what that meant. Spike knew that sulphur was sometimes used in demonic rituals and magick spells.

So ’s that it, then? he wondered. Some ooglie-booglies trespassing to do some hocus-pocus?

Spike pursed his lips; that didn’t seem right to him. Why would a demon or vampire need to break into the mansion to do a spell?

Spike’s eyes scanned the room and alighted on a large scorch mark in the center of the room. There was an outline of what looked like a body in the foetal position in the middle of the burn.

Well something wicked definitely came this way, Spike thought.

He treaded lightly over to the stain on the floor, kneeling down to brush his fingertips against the charred cement. Spike rubbed the soot between his thumb and middle and index fingers. He brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed. There, underneath the sulphur and acrid burnt smell, was a scent that made his blood run cold – or colder.

No, he thought, his eyes going wide as he swallowed thickly. It can’t be.

A crashing noise sounded from the direction of the kitchen.

Spike bolted up straight and ran towards the sound.

He came to a halt in the entryway of the kitchen as his eyes fell on the figure hunched over the refrigerator. The yellow glow from the open fridge clearly outlined the naked figure as well as the white Styrofoam containers that were used to hold Spike’s blood supply, which were, now empty and litter on the floor.

Even if Spike hadn’t already caught the familiar scent, he would have be able to identify that pasty white ass anywhere.

The vampire swayed slightly in shock. “Bloody hell,” he said aloud.

The other vampire spun around at the sound of his voice, blood smeared all over its mouth. He snarled at Spike and growled, showing his maw of sharp fangs dripping with blood.

Well, Spike thought drily, so much for a quiet night of watching bad telly.

TBC...

Spike licked his lips nervously, his hands automatically going up in supplication toward his feral sire. “It’s all right, mate,” he said placatingly. “Everything’s all right. Let’s just settle down, yeah?”

The other vampire growled in reply.

Spike sighed, frustrated. “You always were the difficult one. Okay, why don’t we just–” His words were cut off suddenly as Angel lunged at Spike and tackled him to the ground.

Spike grunted as his body slammed into the hard marble floor.

Angel bent down to Spike’s neck and sniffed him. His head snapped up with a snarl and Spike looked up at the querying expression in his sire’s golden eyes; Angel seemed confused about what he had smelled on his childe.

Probably the soul, Spike reckoned. Bet the poof hadn’t been expecting that.

“Take it easy big fella,” Spike urged. “You see, I’m one of your lot now. So why don’t we just get up and–”

Spike didn’t get the chance to finish that thought, as Angel pulled Spike’s head back by his hair and smacked his skull onto the floor with an audible thwack! Spike’s vision blurred, before dimming into complete darkness.

Angel shot up on his feet, running out of the mansion and into the night.

~*~

Buffy hit the ground with a whoompf, the breath knocked out of her body when a vamp caught her by surprise and rammed into her from the side.

She took a long blink and shook her head, trying to rattle the sense that had been knocked out of her back into place.

With a grunt, Buffy twisted her body–she was pinned underneath the vamp–so that her back was flat on the ground and she could look up at her attacker.

The Slayer grimaced, seeing the leering smile the vamp was making. It exposed his yellowed fangs that were in desperate need of a flossing.

“Oh my god,” Buffy groaned. “You’re breath smells worse than an actual corpse. You know, just because you’re dead, doesn’t mean that you can just neglect proper hygiene.”

The vampire’s expression turned to one of confusion, his brow furrowing and making even more grooves in his already bumpy forehead. He’d clearly been expecting screaming, not insults.

Buffy rolled her eyes before lifting up her knee and sending it hard into the vamp’s groin.

His face turned red with pain and his body seized up, making it easy for Buffy to push him off her. As the vamp rolled over, moaning and holding on to his wounded manhood, Buffy flipped to her feet.

Faith was preoccupied, beating the fangs out of the vampire that had initiated the brawl when he’d thrown Faith into the headstone. One other vampire was watching from the sidelines. His wide eyes went from Faith pummeling one of his buddies to the other injured vamp on the ground, then finally up to Buffy.

Buffy sucked in her cheeks and raised her brows in challenge to the vamp. His eyes darted quickly over the tableau on the ground before spinning around and running away.

Buffy rolled her eyes again and heaved a sigh before lurching forward to go after him. She paused and looked back at the vamp on the ground.

Oh right, better take care of him first.

She whipped a stake out of her jacket pocket and crouched down to stick it in the vamp’s back. As he exploded into dust, Buffy jumped to her feet and took off in pursuit of the cowardly vampire.

~*~

Spike groaned as his hand slowly reached up to touch the back of his throbbing head. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled as he rubbed the hard bump that was forming on his skull. He slowly cracked open his eyes, blinking several times to clear away the white spots of light blinding his vision.

Once he could see again, Spike gingerly propped himself up on his elbows and took in the room. His memory was muddled from the head trauma and his brow furrowed in confusion at the open refrigerator and empty blood cartons on the floor.

“What...?” he muttered aloud. He took in a breath through his nose. As the scent hit him, so did the recollection of what had happened. Spike sat up straighter and looked frantically about the room. There wasn’t any sign of Angel anywhere.

Spike shot to his feet and searched the mansion.

“Oh balls,” he cursed realizing that the other vampire was definitely not in the mansion .

Spike closed his eyes, clenching his fists tightly. He rolled his neck and shoulders and took a deep breath. Spike blew out the air with an aggravated sigh, then set out to go find the rabid vampire.

And when I do, I’m gonna put the wanker on a leash, he thought as he wound up the chains -that had been used to restrain himself a few months ago - and stuffed them into a bag.

~*~

Angel’s scent led Spike out to a small woodland area a few miles off from the cemetery that the two Slayer’s were currently patrolling; it wasn’t a very safe area for a wild vampire to be roaming with a new, stake-happy Slayer about.

Spike just hoped that he wasn’t too late and he found his sire before either of the Chosen two did. Of course he was planning on telling Buffy about the vampire’s return – just not yet. She was already so wracked with guilt over having had to kill him, if Buffy saw Angel like this, she would be gutted. Spike just wanted to get the lout sorted out before Buffy saw him.

As soon as Angel begun acting more like his old self, Spike would tell the Slayer he was back.

And after that...

Spike shook his head.

Well, after that, whatever happens, happens. It’s up to Buffy.

Spike tried to ignore the sharp twist in his chest that sentiment caused and forged on deeper into the woods; he had a fairly good idea about how things would workout once Buffy learned that her precious Angel was back. Spike tried to tell himself he didn’t care, that he wasn’t jealous.

Yeah, right.

The vampire shook off the unpleasant thoughts of the future and focused on the matter at hand. As he went further into the woods, he no longer needed to rely solely on his sense of smell to guide him to his sire. All he had to do was follow the trail of rabbit carcasses littering the ground like breadcrumbs.

Spike’s lips twisted as he sidestepped the bunny bodies.

Guess a trip outta Hell works up quite an appetite, he reckoned. Mentally, Spike added the drained animals here to his week supply of blood that Angel had already gone through. Which reminded him, he was going to have to make a stop at the butcher’s to replenish what he’d lost.

Spike sighed. What he wouldn’t give to be watching crap telly right now.

Spike stopped and pricked up his ears as he caught the faint sounds of gurgling and slurping coming from not far off ahead of him. Spike honed in on the noise and proceeded carefully onward. It wasn’t long before he saw Angel crouched down on the ground, his head bowed as he sucked the life out of yet another rabbit.

Spike stopped and opened the bag he’d brought with him to carry his set of chains. He didn’t think that he could get Angel to come back with him voluntarily. Even though Spike was being careful and was pulling the chains out slowly, they still clanked and rattled. Spike winced as he noticed Angel’s body stiffen with awareness.

Bugger.

Angel whirled around, a bloodied bunny dangling from his mouth. Its foot was twitching with the shred of life it still clung to.

“Hiya, pops!” Spike greeted drily. “How ya been? How’s Hell this time of year? Hot, I imagine.”

Angel growled as he leaned forward on all fours and crept menacingly towards Spike.

“Oh, right, I forgot. You never were much one for conversation.” He scoffed, “You know, it’s hard for me to imagine how you and the Slayer got on, knowing how much she likes to prattle on ,” he remarked with a touch of fondness when speaking of Buffy.

There seemed to be a flash of recognition in Angel’s yellow eyes at the mention of the Slayer.

“Yeah, Buffy,” Spike repeated her name, getting an idea. “Remember her? The great love of your unlife.” Spike had to grit the words out. “Well, do you really want her seein’ you this way?”

The other vampire seemed to be considering the question.

Spike thought he was onto something. Maybe he could get Angel back to the mansion and out of sight with less of a struggle than he’d thought. Relieved, Spike felt a bit of tension ease out of his shoulders.

“That’s right,” Spike went on. “We wouldn’t want Buffy getting a look at the state you’re in. So, how’s about you just crawl on back with me to the mansion before she accidently stumbles onto us, yeah? All right? Nice and easy now.” Spike took a step forward, the chain in his hand dragging on the ground.

Angel’s wild eyes flicked to the chain then up to Spike. He snarled, finally dropping the now completely lifeless rabbit from his jaw. Angel leaned back on his haunches, a gesture Spike recognized as getting ready to attack.

Spike’s hands curled into fists, his grip tightening on the chains.

“Fine ,” he muttered. “The hard way it is then.”

Angel pushed up forward from his legs, sailing through the air towards Spike with the grace and prowess of a puma.

Unlike back at the mansion, Spike was ready for him this time. He flung the chain up in the air, whipping it around lasso-style. As soon as Angel was at the right angle, Spike tossed the noose of the chain and caught the other vampire about the neck. Once Spike had a hold of his sire, he gave the chains a rough yank and brought Angel down to the ground hard.

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate. But it had to be done,” Spike told his subdued sire.

Angel shook off the jarring impact and pushed himself up on all fours and thrashed about in the grip of the chains, trying to pull free. He whipped his head toward Spike and lashed out at him, snapping his fangs.

Spike took a step back and gave the chains a jerk, choking Angel.

Angel whimpered as his hands came up and he tried to pull the chains back from crushing his neck.

Spike loosened the hold. “All right, then,” he told Angel. “Now you just be a good sire and don’t make me do that again.”

Angel stilled, looking at the ground, a low rumble heaving deep in his chest.

“Okay,” Spike said. “So you’re gonna play nice, then?”

Angel slowly raised his head to Spike. He answered by opening his mouth wide and lunging forward, clamping his jaw tightly down on Spike’s leg.

“Bloody hell!” Spike cried as he lifted the leg not currently being bitten and kicked Angel in the head. His sire still wouldn’t let go.

Spike pulled up on the chains again, applying just the right amount of pressure in just the right place to make Angel lose consciousness. The way he had done with Drusilla just a few months - but what seemed like a lifetime - ago. Spike thought about how if he had just taken Dru then and left like he’d planned to, he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

I always do the stupid thing, Spike lamented to himself as Angel’s body finally went limp and Spike was able to ease his painful hold on the chains. Spike bent forward, resting his hands on his knees to recover from the effort, panting needlessly. He took a moment to collect himself before straightening and looking down at the still, prone figure of his sire while he contemplated whether or not to carry him back to the mansion or just drag him by the chains.

Well, he thought. The man’s just got out of Hell, I’m sure a few extra bumps and scraps ain’t gonna bother him much.

Spike pursed in his lips and sucked in his cheeks. He looked down at the chain in his hand, then to the body lying helpless on the ground. He sighed as he threw his head back and closed his eyes.

“Ah, sod it,” Spike cursed before tossing down the chains and bending over to heft Angel up and fling him over his shoulder.

~*~

“Bloody hell, you’re one heavy bastard,” Spike grunted as he tossed the still unconscious Angel unceremoniously onto the ground. He had been carrying his sire for over a mile now and needed a break. Spike rolled his aching shoulders and popped his neck. He leaned back against a tree and rummaged around in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

He popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit up, breathing the smoke in deep.

“Oh yeah,” Spike moaned before releasing the smoke from his lungs and mouth. He pressed the back of one shoulder into the trunk of the tree and rolled it, trying to rub out a kink. He was just about loosened up when he caught a whiff of something on the wind that had him stiffen.

“Shit,” he muttered, tossing down his fag and stomping it out.

~*~

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Buffy said, disgusted, as she came to a clearing in the woods where she had chased the vampire – he was nowhere in sight.

“Well, he may not be much of a fighter,” she said aloud. “But he’s a pro at the running and hiding, I’ll give him that.”

Buffy sighed and shook her head. She turned and was just about to head back to the cemetery to go help out Faith when she heard something rustling in the bushes.

She slowly turned back and narrowed her eyes at the bush from where the noise had come. A smile curved up her lips and her brows hitched up in triumph.

Or maybe he’s not such a good hider after all.

Buffy raised her stake up in the air as she crept towards the bush.

~*~

Spike crouched down as soon as he smelled Buffy coming and heard her footfalls running in his - and Angel’s - direction. He thought about hefting up his sire and making a run for it, but figured that hiding was a safer alternative.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut tight - as if it would somehow make him become invisible - when he heard the Slayer talking to herself.

He was doing his damnedest not to make a sound, but his efforts proved futile as Angel chose just that time to start to stir; his arm flailed at his side, hitting the branches of their shelter and alerting the Slayer to their presence.

Spike glared down at his, thankfully still sleeping, sire and kicked him in the head, after which Angel went still again.

That’s it, he thought. I’m dragging his sorry ass the rest of the way. That is, if the Slayer doesn’t stake me first.

Buffy slowly reached out with the hand not holding her stake and started to pull back the brush to expose the vampire, when he beat her to it and burst out.

Buffy was ready to send the stake into the vampire’s chest, but stopped short, her eyes going wide when she saw who it was.

“Bloody hell, Slayer! Watch it with that, would ya?”

Buffy dropped her hand and blinked dumbly at him. “Spike?” she asked, boggled by his presence. “What the hell are you doing? I could have staked you!”

Spike chuckled wryly. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Buffy shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?” she prodded.

“Well what?” asked Spike.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were busy watching Dawson’s Creek tonight.”

“Oh...er, right,” Spike stammered. “It was a rerun. Nothing else good on, so I decided to come out for a walk.”

Buffy nodded her head slowly. “Uh-huh,” she remarked, in a sceptical tone.

“What about you?” Spike returned.

“What about me, what?” Buffy asked, a slight crinkle in brow.

“What are you doing?” Spike elaborated.

“Oh, right. I’m patrolling. Like I said I was going to be earlier.”

“Oh, right,” remarked Spike. “How’s that goin’ then?”

Buffy sighed. “Well it was going fine until this total scaredy-cat vampire took off running and I lost him. You didn’t happen to come across him, did you?”

Spike shook his head. “‘fraid not.”

Buffy frowned. “Well, I guess I should get back to looking. Wanna keep me company?”

Spike’s heart twisted at the slight sound of hopefulness he could have sworn he heard in Buffy’s voice.

“Er... sorry, pet,” he said. “I’d love to tag along, but, I’m feelin’ a bit beat. I was just about to head back to the mansion, actually.”

Buffy deflated. “Oh,” she said lightly with a nod, trying not to seem disappointed.

“Tell you what,” Spike offered. “I’ll keep m’ eyes peeled for the vamp on the way.”

Buffy gave him a smile. “That’d be great,” she said. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Spike ground his teeth together when Buffy made no move to go; he needed her to leave first so he could get Angel. He rolled his tongue along his cheek, trying to keep his patience.

“Say,” Spike began, attempting to sound casual. “Didn’t you say that you were going out with the other Slayer? Where’s she then? Didn’t cut out on you, I hope.”

“Oh no,” Buffy told him. “I left her going to town on another vamp when I chased after his friend.”

“Hm,” he remarked with false contemplation.

“What hm?” Buffy demanded.

“Oh nothing,” Spike replied with a shrug. “Well, I was just thinkin’ maybe that vamp doubled back on you–it’s an tactic; divide and conquer, yeah–maybe you should head back and check on the other Slayer just in case.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Oh crap, that’s a good point,” she conceded. “I didn’t think of that. You’re right. I should go.”

Spike nodded. “Right. I’ll see you later, pet.”

“Bye,” Buffy said hurriedly. She turned and darted off.

Spike waited until her scent had faded so that he knew she was far enough away for him to be able to get Angel back to the mansion without her catching him.

Spike stepped back through the bushes and grabbed the chains. He started pulling on them, grunting with the effort.

“Right, that’s it,” he said through gritted teeth. “No more bunnies for you. You’re going on a diet.”

TBC …

Angel moaned as he stirred slowly back into awareness. He felt a stinging pain in his back—nothing new there. He was quite used to pain by now. He also felt the weight of chains on his wrists and ankles. Angel resigned himself to believe that he had just imagined that he’d been set free. Some kind of cruel dream, or perhaps another form of torture, making him see what he wanted to see–the way he’d had Drusilla do to Rupert Giles.

Drusilla... Giles.

These names sparked a recognition in his mind. He had forgotten about names and people, everything that had to do with humanity, what seemed like centuries ago.

While he was in Hell there had only ever been one face he could ever recall. Just one name.

Buffy.

Even his own name escaped him at times. But not hers.

But more of them began flashing through his mind now: Darla, Willow, Cordelia, Jenny, Xander, Joyce...

Their’s and so many other faces blurred behind his eyelids. Then one appeared more prominently than the others...

“Sp-pike,” he grunted through gritted teeth. He hadn’t uttered a word in longer than he could remember and it showed in the way he struggled to get this one out.

“Well, ‘ello, ‘ello,” the familiar voice of his grandchilde replied. “I was beginning to think I choked you too long–caused brain damage or something.” He snorted. “Not that that would make a hell of lotta difference in your case.”

Slowly, Angel opened his eyes and squinted at the other vampire sitting across from him in a backwards turned chair–chair there was another word he’d forgotten. He remembered fighting with Spike in the woods, but that simple memory didn’t tell Angel any better whether he was still in hell or not.

“Well, well, well,” Spike went on. “This is sure a change, innit? You being the one tied up.” Spike sucked in his cheeks as he considered his bound sire before him. “Lucky for you, I’m not much in the revenge game anymore, or I might be taking advantage of our current situation to enact some on you.”

“Wh-” Angel gritted his teeth in frustration together as he fought to gain control over his speech. “Where are we?”

Spike swept his arms out. “Home sweet home. Don’t you recognise it?”

Angel lifted his head up higher with effort and scanned the room with slanted eyes.

“The mansion?” he answered just a tad uncertain after a moment.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Spike dryly replied. “We have a winner.”

“What happened?” Angel demanded, his voice still hoarse but getting stronger. “Where’s Buffy?”

“The cemetery I’d imagine,” Spike said.

Angel’s eyes flashed with panic.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Slaying vampires, you git. She’s fine. I just talked to her.”

“You...talked? To Buffy?” Angel was clearly suspicious of Spike’s claim.

“Yeah, me an’ the Slayer are old mates now,” Spike told him smugly.

“You’re lying,” Angel spat, seething.

“Oh, am I?” Spike countered, pushing back from the chair and striding over to Angel. He bent down and leaned in towards the other vampire. “Go on, then, give us a good whiff.”

Angel lifted his head and breathed in through his nose. There under the scent of his grandchilde and Angel’s own his own distinct smell, was the unmistakable aroma of Buffy.

Angel jerked his face back like he’d been burned.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Angel grumbled. “Just that you’ve been near her, not that you’re friends. Buffy would never be friends with you!”

“Oh wouldn’t she just?” Spike said, tauntingly. “Look at me peaches, really look, I’m not the man I was before.”

Angel turned his head back and looked into his granchilde’s familiar glacial eyes. He looked deep in their depths and saw it. He had noticed the discrepancy earlier, but he hadn’t been able to quite figure out what it meant. He was well aware of the answer now.

“How...?” Angel’s voice was no more than an awed whisper.

“Same as you,” Spike said, rising to stand. “Well, not exactly the same. Willow worked the Gypsy mojo that the teacher lady you killed had cooked up to restore your soul. Only she didn’t do it exactly according to the rules, mucked it up a bit, used the plural or some such. So instead of just giving you your soul...”

Angel scowled as he tried to work out the information. “Were you the only other vampire affected?” he asked after a moment.

Spike’s jaw tensed, the muscles in his face twitching.. “No. There was one other ‘living’ vampire there at the time that got cursed too. Dru did as well.”

Angel’s head snapped up.

“Drusilla?” He looked around the room. “Where is she?”

Spike coughed through a twinge in his chest. “She didn’t, er, adjust too well to the soul havin’. The guilt was too much for her. She...”

Angel slumped, his eyelids dropping closed. He felt remorse for the loss of Drusilla; her death was his fault. She’d always be his greatest regret. Now even more so.

Spike could see the pain on Angel’s face. The guilt.

Good, he thought. The wanker should feel bad for what he did to Dru.

Spike set his jaw hard. A niggling feeling in the back of his mind wouldn’t go away as he looked at the other vampire’s grief-stricken expression. Something was making Spike want to relieve Angel’s sorrow.

He was really getting tired of this bloody conscience.

Spike sighed and reluctantly said, “She seemed to be at peace with it all. You know, just before she...” He waved his hand back toward the window where Drusilla had immolated herself. “She seemed...happy almost. Like her mind was finally clear. She was free,” he finished quietly, looking down and pretending to inspect his fingernails.

Angel looked up at Spike bewilderedly. Was Spike trying to comfort him? Angel had the suspicion that if he were sent back to Hell at this moment, it would be freezing there.

Angel tried to push pass the uncanny thought of Spike being kind to him and just accepted his words about Drusilla being at peace.

“Good,” Angel remarked. “That’s good. I’m glad. She deserved peace.”

“Bloody right she did,” Spike replied, bitterness colouring his tone. His anger at Angel was overpowering his sympathy. “After what she’d been through–what you put her through–”

“You’re right,” Angel conceded.

Spike’s head snapped back up in surprise. Angel was admitting that Spike was right? Angel was admitting that he himself was wrong? Spike figured they must be having a snowball fight in Hell right now.

Spike cleared his throat and shook off the shock.

“Right. Well, I woulda likely followed Dru into the light had it not been for that Slayer–she saved my worthless unlife. She’s one hell of a girl, that one.”

Angel narrowed his eyes at the reverent expression Spike wore as he Spike he spoke about Buffy. Angel knew that look. Spike used to look at Drusilla in a similar way, but not quite the same. Something about this look was more...pure. It didn’t hold that twisted reverence Spike had had for the woman who had made him a vampire. But all the same, Angel didn’t like it.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

Spike blinked and was brought back to the present and out of the little fantasy world he always found himself in when thinking of Buffy. He looked down at Angel and returned the scathing look his sire was giving him.

“Watch who you’re givin’ the dirty looks to, gramps,” Spike warned. “If you’re not nice, I might not give you your din din.”

As if on cue, Angel’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food.

Spike rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Although, I can’t fathom how you can still be hungry after the way you scarfed down Bugs and his buddies,” Spike remarked as he bent over and picked up the mug he had filled with blood. After returning to the mansion, Spike had discovered that two of the Styrofoam soup containers had been spared from Angel’s ravenous rampage of the fridge earlier. “And I’m also not sure I should be sharing what little’s left of my supply after you got into it–without permission,” he added pointedly. “Guess you have that soul to thank for my hospitality.”

“Hospitality,” Angel scoffed. “Do you usually keep your guests shackled to the wall?”

One corner of Spike’s mouth lifted. “As a matter fact... and just who did I learn that from in the first place?”

Angel’s face turned sour and he looked away.

Spike rolled his eyes again and blew out a breath.

“Here,” he said, shoving the mug in Angel’s face. “Don’t choke on it–wait, on second thought, go ahead.”

Angel sneered before parting his lips and putting his mouth to the rim of the cup. His expression quickly smoothed out into one of serenity as the blood hit his tongue. He gulped it down greedily, and leaned forward, not able to drink fast enough.

“Ah ah ah,” Spike said, pulling back the mug. “Take it easy there, this has to last you until sundown when I can go out and get more.”

Angel glared at Spike and licked his lips. He took steady breaths, trying to rein in his bloodlust. But he couldn’t keep his hunger under control. He felt like he hadn’t properly fed in centuries.

Spike clucked his tongue and let out a sigh. He couldn’t stand the way Angel was staring longingly at the mug. “Sod it. Fine.” He put the cup to Angel’s mouth again. “But, I don’t wanna hear any grumblin’ about being hungry from you later, yeah?”

Angel nodded enthusiastically and started drinking again, attempting to go slow at first, but quickly giving it up. It didn’t take long for him to drain the mug. After it was empty, Angel rolled his tongue along the inside of the cup, licking up whatever remainders he could get.

Suddenly, the cup was jerked away from Angel’s lips again. The vampire raised his head to scowl at Spike, but Angel’s expression shifted into confusion when he saw the tension in his childe’s stance. Angel’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to ask what the matter was, but before any words could make it out, he already knew the answer.

“Spike!” A woman’s voice called out from another room.

That voice flooded Angel’s heart with just intense emotion, it felt liable to burst. “Buffy,” Angel whispered, his voice hoarse again.

Spike’s attention jolted back to his sire at the sound of Angel’s voice. He looked down at Angel–whose face was filled with longing, his eyes looking like a lost puppy–and frowned. “Keep quiet,” Spike hissed. “Buffy can’t see you like this,” he added.

Angel made no sign of understanding, or even having heard Spike, he just continued to stare in the direction from which Buffy’s scent was coming.

“Oi!” Spike crouched down, getting in Angel’s face. “If the Slayer sees you like this it’ll kill her. Got it? So keep your yap shut.”

Angel glared at Spike. He wasn’t convinced his childe wanted to keep Buffy from seeing him for the sake of her own well-being, but, nonetheless, Spike did have a point. Though, Angel hadn’t seen his own reflection in over two centuries, judging by the way he felt, he’d guess that he looked a lot worse for wear than he had the last time Buffy saw him. He didn’t want her to see him until he felt more like himself again–though he doubted that would be any time soon.

Feeling resigned, Angel just nodded.

Spike blew out a relieved breath. He had been expecting the other vampire to put up more of a fight, to argue about wanting to see Buffy. Angel must really be in bad shape to give up so easily.

“Well...good,” Spike said. “Just don’t make any noise. I’ll try to get her to leave as quick as I can.” With that, he stood up and started for the foyer. Spike had just turned the corner when he nearly collided with the petite blond.

Buffy stopped short of having her face crash into Spike’s chest. She imagined it would have been a painful thing to hit, given how rock solid the vampire’s physique was. Buffy chided herself for the tawdry tangent she was about to let herself go on.

“Hey, there!” she chirped, a bit too brightly.

“Hey yourself,” Spike replied. He stepped around Buffy and began moving towards the main room and away from Angel. As he had wanted her to do, Buffy followed him. “Er, what brings you by here this time of day? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Uh, usually, yeah I would be. But today’s a half-day; there’s a teacher’s meeting,” she explained.

Spike nodded, his eyes flicking down the hall–apparently, the action hadn’t been as circumspect as he’d wanted, as Buffy cast a glance back over her shoulder.

“So,” Spike said loudly, clapping his hands together to draw her attention back to him. “What’re you gonna do with your furlough, then? Surely you’ve got something better planned than spending your day off in this musty old place with the likes of me?”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know, I kind of like this musty old place. It grows on you. A lot of things do, things you wouldn’t expect.”

The look Buffy gave him–the shy flick of her eyes to his face then back down to her feet–just about broke Spike. She was talking about him, obviously; he had grown on her. She liked him. She wanted to spend time with him. On any other day, Spike would be overjoyed, as all he ever wanted to do was spend time with her. If he had things his way, he and Buffy would spend every moment together for the rest of eternity. But, unfortunately, Spike rarely had things his way anymore. Every moment Buffy stayed here, she would come closer to stumbling upon her ex chained up in the backroom–and wouldn’t that just go miles in destroying Spike’s new good reputation?

The vampire cleared his throat and licked his lips. “Come on, Slayer, you hardly ever get to have any time off. You should be out in the sun enjoying your freedom. What’re your mates up to, Red and the cheerleader?”

“Um,” Buffy began, ducking her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re going to the mall actually. To pick out their Homecoming gowns.”

An’ why aren’t you tagging along and getting yours too?” Spike prodded.

“Well, you generally don’t need a dress for the Homecoming dance when you’re not going to Homecoming,” Buffy replied. “I don’t have a date. So...” She finished with a shrug.

Spike couldn’t help the twinge of happiness at this news, but it quarreled with pity; it was clear to him that Buffy wanted to go to the dance. “Er, what about Scooter? Why aren’t you going with him?”

Buffy shrugged again. “He didn’t ask me. Neither did anyone else. I’m not exactly Sunnydale High’s most eligible bachelorette.”

Spike scoffed. “I have a bit of trouble believing that one, pet.”

“No trust me, it’s true,” she insisted. “Most guys aren’t exactly eager to ask a girl out when by reputation it’s likely that he’ll end up in traction.”

Spike chuckled. “Don’t know ‘bout that, love. There are some guys out there that prefer it a bit rough.”

Buffy’s brows rose. “Some guys? Is there anyone in particular you had in mind?”

Spike grinned wickedly in response. A slight blush crept into the Slayer’s cheeks that only made Spike’s smile broaden–until he realised that he was flirting when he was supposed to be trying to get her to leave. His smile dropped and he sniffed.

“I don’t see why you need a date anyway,” he said, quickly changing the tone. “You don’t need some soppy schoolboy falling all over you to have a good time. I mean, you always seem to be havin’ fun at the Bronze with just your friends. Why should this dance be any different? I say you should go.”

“Um... I guess you’re right,” Buffy said. “I could go on my own.”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you go on and catch up with your friends and get a knockout dress that will make all the other girls jealous and have those foolish high school boys eating their hearts out.”

“Okay.” Buffy smiled. “I will.”

“Good.”

“So, um, do you want to hang out later?” Buffy asked. “Faith can handle patrolling on her own tonight. I could come back and show you my dress?”

God, she’s killing me, Spike thought. He couldn’t believe that he was actually going to pass up the chance to see her all dolled up in a fancy dress. She would look beautiful, no doubt. Was it possible for her to look anything but?

Spike scratched the back of his neck. “Actually, uh...tonight’s not so good. I’ve got other plans.”

“Other plans?” Buffy asked, trying not to sound too incredulous. But honestly, what other plans could he have?

“Yeah. A demon friend of mine an’ me are gonna have a drink over at Willy’s,” he told her.

“You’re going to have drinks with a demon?”

Spike smirked at the judgment in Buffy’s voice. “Don’t worry, love, he’s a good demon,” Spike assured.

“They have those?” This time Buffy made no attempt to hide her disbelief.

Spike chuckled. “Well, he doesn’t harm humans at any rate. His diet is strictly feline.”

Buffy made a face at that. “Oh. Well, have fun.”

“Yeah. You too.”

“Buffy,” Spike called out just as she turned away.

She looked back to him. “Yeah?”

“Uh...pink.”

“Huh?” Buffy asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“Your dress,” Spike elaborated. “You should get a pink one. It brings out the green in your eyes and...well, you look good in pink.” The last part came out mumbled as Spike shoved his hands in his pocket and looked down at his boot, scuffing the tip on the floor. He flicked his eyes back up to Buffy and saw she was wearing that shy smile of hers that made his insides melt.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Bye, Spike.”

“See ya, pet.”

As Angel listened to the friendly conversation that filtered in from the other room taking place between the woman he loved and the childe he loathed, one thought stood clear in his mind: he must definitely still be in Hell.

TBC…

Buffy was walking down the sidewalk on her way to meet Faith at the motel she was staying in—the Slayers were supposed to do a crypt to crypt search for the Glove of Myhnegon. Buffy happened to glance across the street in time to see a certain platinum blonde vampire exiting the butcher's shop with a big paper sack in his arms.

"Spike?" Buffy called out. The vampire's head snapped in her direction. His eyes scanned the area before settling on Buffy with a flash of recognition. Buffy waved to him, then held up a finger, signaling for him to wait. She checked the street again to make sure it was clear then jogged across to meet him.

Spike held his breath while he waited for the Slayer to make her way over to him. He wished now that he hadn't cut ahead in the queue; if he had waited, he could have avoided this run in with Buffy. He hated keeping Angel's return a secret from her, but he also lived in dread of the day when she found out the truth.

Spike could feel the frown on his face and schooled his expression into a friendlier one as Buffy got closer.

"Hey there stranger," Buffy said as she came up to Spike's side.

Spike gave her a smirk. "Slayer," he returned with a nod. "How've you been?"

"I've been okay," she said. "What about you? Where have you been keeping yourself? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Spike looked down at his boots and scratched the back of his neck. "Er, yeah, sorry 'bout that, love," he said. "Just been... busy."

"With that demon friend of yours?" Buffy asked.

"Who?" Spike replied, forgetting for a moment the excuse he'd used the last time when Buffy had asked him to do something. "Oh right, yeah, my demon friend. Clem, is his name," he said quickly. "Yup, been busy with ol' Clem, me."

"Good," Buffy remarked, forcing a smile. "I'm sure you're glad to be hanging out with your own kind of people—or, not people—instead of just having me around to keep you company."

Spike couldn't have felt worse if Buffy had socked him in the gut.

"Come on, pet, it's not like that," he said.

Buffy looked up at him then, her eyes large and begging for reassurance.

"I mean, it's not right to have my entire unlife dependin' on you," Spike reasoned. "I've got to have other folk to spend time with. Just like you've got your mates and a life outside of me to live, yeah?"

"I guess you have point," Buffy admitted a bit reluctantly.

"'Course I do," said Spike. "I've got to do something with myself instead of just collecting dust at the mansion while you're about doing your thing, slaying, going to school, to dances. Speaking of which," he segued. "How was Homecoming? Scooter ever come to his senses and ask you?

Buffy hesitated for a second, trying to catch up with the sudden shift in conversation.

"Um, yes, actually, he did," Buffy told him. "Only to tell me that he didn't think we should see each other anymore a few days later."

Spike winced in sympathy. "Wanker," he muttered. "Well, at least it's no great loss though, eh pet? The ponce wasn't nearly good enough to even whittle your stakes."

"Well the loss of a pseudo-boyfriend didn't bother me as much as the humiliation of being dumped just before the dance," Buffy said. "Humiliation that continued when I got to the dance late and was covered in dirt in a ruined dress after being chased through Millers woods by a group of Slayer hunters–oh, with Cordelia of all people. And I lost Homecoming Queen."

Spike blinked, taking it all in. He scratched the back of his head, his brow furrowed. "Certainly sounds like a hell of a night," he remarked. "Sorry about all that, love."

Buffy shrugged. "No big, really," she said. "The tiara was ugly anyway, and at least Cordelia didn't win either so..."

"Well, it's good to have a positive outlook," Spike quipped.

"I try," Buffy replied.

There was a brief lull between them.

"So, what's with all the blood?" Buffy asked. "Are you training for a marathon or something? You know, like carb-loading?" Buffy squinched her face and tilted her head to the side. "Wait, does blood even have carbs?"

Spike looked down to the bag packed with over double the amount of blood he usually ordered, the wheels spinning in his head to come up with an excuse.

"Er... well, they were havin' a special on Black Angus beef," Spike said. "So I got a good deal on the blood. Thought I should stock up. It's premium stuff, and it keeps well in freezer."

"Oh, well, good thinking," Buffy remarked. "Very... economical of you."

Spike chuckled. "Right."

Another bout of silence fell between them.

Buffy's stomach twisted, hating the awkwardness she felt with Spike; he'd been the person she felt most comfortable with just a couple weeks ago. She couldn't figure out what had happened that had caused a rift between them.

Buffy cleared her throat, trying to shake away her bleak thoughts, and forced a perky persona.

"So do you have plans with Clem tonight?" she asked Spike.

"Oh, er, yeah," Spike said, head bobbing. "He and some other blokes are comin' to the mansion for a poker game."

Buffy smiled. "Sounds fun."

"And you? The usual, slaying and whatnot?"

"Mostly whatnot," Buffy replied. "Faith and I are going on a sort of Slayer version of an Easter egg hunt," she informed. "Only instead of eggs we need to find the Glove of Munchausen."

Spike's brow furrowed, trying to work out what Buffy might mean. He couldn't recall there being that many 'Gloves of' anything–and only one that started with an M. "Do you mean The Glove of Myhnegon?" he asked.

"Yeah, that thing," Buffy said. "So you've heard of it?"

"Only just," Spike said. "Powerful little accessory, that. Let's whoever puts it on wield all sorts of power."

Buffy nodded. "So I've heard. According to Mrs. Post-"

"Who?" Spike interrupted.

"New Watcher," Buffy explained.

"New Watcher?" Spike echoed, incredulity etched in his expression. "Don't tell me good ol' uncle Rupert got the sack!"

"No, he didn't. Giles is still my Watcher," Buffy said. "Mrs. Post is Faith's new Watcher."

"Blimey," Spike said. "That's quite a shake-up you got goin' there."

"Yeah. You can miss a lot around here in just a couple weeks," Buffy commented.

"Apparently," Spike muttered. He sighed. "Sorry, what were you sayin' about the Glove, pet?"

"Right, well according to Mrs. Post, there's this really bad demon guy, Lagos, in town looking for the Glove. Have you ever heard of Lagos?"

"The name rings some fairly ominous bells," Spike replied. "I'd say 'really bad demon' is a bit of an understatement."

"Which is exactly why Faith and I need to find the malicious mitten before Lagos gets his evil hands on it—or in it, I guess."

"Well, you be careful, yeah?" Spike said.

"I'm always careful," Buffy replied. Spike's brows rose at the statement. "Well, okay, maybe not always, but a good 98 percent of the time at least," she amended.

Spike smirked, his chest feeling suddenly warm. God he had missed her. The last couple of weeks he'd been too busy babysitting his sire to spend any time with her.

Angel was getting better, but he still wasn't back to fighting form. He wasn't quite ready yet for Buffy to see him, which suited Spike just fine. He was selfishly wishing to postpone that reunion indefinitely. If Spike thought he wasn't seeing Buffy much now, he could only imagine what it would be like once her 'true love' was back in the mix.

"Right, well, I should get this stuff home before it goes off," Spike said, indicating the bag in his arm. "I'll see ya round, Slayer." He was just about to turn, but Buffy's voice stopped him.

"Really?" she asked. "Like when do you think? This weekend, next weekend, next month maybe? Or should I just call and schedule an appointment?"

Spike opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again without an answer and looked away. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then looked back up to Buffy. "Er, listen Buffy, I know I've been–"

Buffy held up a hand. "Forget it, never mind. I'm glad that you have friends to spend time with, really. I just miss hanging out with you, I guess," she finished quietly, looking down.

"I've missed you too, pet," Spike admitted, his voice hitching slightly with emotion. "Maybe we could–"

"You know, I should really get going," Buffy said abruptly, cutting him off. "Later." With that, she spun around and took off down the sidewalk.

"Right," Spike mumbled. "Later."

XXX

"Hi honey, I'm home!" Spike caroled dryly as he entered the mansion. Within seconds, Angel jumped out at him and snatched the bag out of his hands. He took out a container, dropping the bag, and started gulping it down greedily.

"Take it easy there, mate," Spike said. "Gonna make yourself sick."

Angel suddenly stopped drinking. He froze and slowly lowered the container from his mouth, a thin line of crimson coated his top lip, making a blood mustache. He looked at Spike with narrowed eyes. Angel leaned towards him and sniffed. His eyes darkened. "You've been with Buffy." It sounded more like an accusation than a question or statement.

"Yeah," Spike huffed, bending down to retrieve the sack Angel had so carelessly dropped on the floor. "What of it? I ran into her on the way back," he elaborated as he headed for the kitchen.

"What did she say?" Angel demanded.

"Nothin' about you," replied Spike. "Jus' the usual pleasantries: How are you? How ya been? Heard about the new demon in town?" Spike placed the bag in the refrigerator, taking out a container for himself. He opened the door of the microwave and put the blood inside. "It's Lagos by the way," he said as he set the timer.

"Huh?" Angel asked.

"The new demon in town, it's Lagos." Spike informed.

"Lagos." Angel repeated the name with familiarity. "He's bad news."

"No kidding," Spike replied. "Even worse news is he's here searching for the Glove of Myhnegon."

Angel's body went rigid. "Glove of Myhnegon. This is really dangerous. Buffy is going to need help." Angel whirled around as if ready to ride out with the cavalry.

"Hold on there cowboy," Spike interjected, grabbing Angel by the shoulder.

Angel wheeled around with a snarl, throwing Spike's hand off him. "You're not going to stop me from helping her," he growled.

Spike straightened up to his full height, which was a good few inches shorter than Angel, even if he was hunched over menacingly in Spike's face. Spike held himself high and got in Angel's face with equal threat.

"You really think you're going to help Buffy by showing up out of the blue?" Spike asked. "The last thing the Slayer needs is to have her head spun right now. Which is exactly what seeing you will do to her. You'll knock her off kilter and she won't be able to think clearly. And though she may be one of the strongest people on the planet, Buffy's best weapon is that brain of hers. She's gonna need to keep her wits should Lagos get that Glove."

Angel's was grinding his teeth together so hard that Spike could hear them screeching. Angel didn't like not being able to help Buffy. In fact, he hated it. Almost as much as he hated having to admit that Spike had a point. If Angel showed up, he might get in the way. The shock of seeing him could end up hurting Buffy more than his presence in a fight would help her.

Spike held his stance, keeping ready in case Angel wanted to fight some more. His gaze slipped down to Angel's clenched fists and Spike prepared himself to block them should they come at his face.

The vampires stayed silent, locked in each other's personal space for a moment, until Angel finally flexed his hands out of fists and eased back.

"Fine," he grumbled. "I won't tell her I'm back–yet."

Spike gave a nod of approval and stepped back, glad to see that, despite over a century of evidence to the contrary, his sire was capable of showing some common sense.

"Good," Spike remarked as he made his way back to the microwave. The beep of the timer had gone unnoticed, the sound of it swallowed in the tension between the vampires. Spike opened the door and dipped a finger into the blood. He frowned, feeling that it had already begun to cool. He closed the microwave and re-set the timer.

"You know," Spike said to Angel, pausing to stick his finger in his mouth to suck off the blood. "It's not like the Slayer is all alone in this, she has her little Scooby gang helpin' her. Not to mention an extra pair of Slayer hands to dole out punches–which happen to pack quite a wallop themselves, mind you. Add to that, that apparently there's also a new Watcher in town... I'd say she's covered. And even if she didn't have back up, the girl's perfectly capable of handling herself. I mean, she did kill you after all, didn't she?" he added with a smirk.

Angel scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "New Watcher?" he asked, deciding to bypass Spike's comment. Angel was still trying to wrap his head around there being two Slayers–and two vampires with souls–now there were two Watchers? What was this, like some kind of Hellmouth-y Noah's Ark? Whatever it was, it definitely went against all the rules Angel had ever known and it made him uneasy.

The microwave timer gave a beep and Spike turned his back on Angel to open it and check the blood. He smiled, now feeling that the temperature was just right.

"Yeah," Spike said, reaching up into the cupboard for a mug. "It makes sense, I 'spose, now that there are two Slayers to have another Watcher about. Poor, old Giles can barely keep up with the Slayer he's already got, and the chit is quiet a spitfire. He'll be needing the help. But, I don't really think Buffy's quite too keen on this Mrs. Post." Spike slowly poured out some blood from the Styrofoam container into the mug. "Not that she said anything against her, just a feeling I got from the way she talked about the woman."

Angel's jaw clenched again at the thought that Spike knew Buffy so well that he could tell her feelings so easily just by talking to her. What made it worse was that Angel had never really been able to tell what Buffy was feeling no matter how close they had been, at least not the way Spike seemed to do. He still couldn't understand how the two of them had become so close. All Spike would say on the subject was that Buffy had helped him when he'd gotten his soul. That, Angel could understand. Buffy's heart was the purest he'd ever known. But still, helping Spike and becoming his friend were two different things. Soul or not, he was still Spike, after all. From what Angel had seen of his childe the soul hadn't changed him all that much.

"Oi! You want this or not?"

Angel blinked, coming out of his thoughts at the sound of Spike's voice. Angel saw that Spike was holding out to him the mug of blood he'd just poured. Angel eyed it warily.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you'd rather have it cold, be my guest." He started to pull the mug bag, but Angel's hand quickly reached out and grabbed it.

"Thanks," the elder vampire mumbled, bringing the cup to his lips and sipping it at a leisurely pace, enjoying the taste, rather than gulping it down the way he had been earlier.

Spike turned away from him and took down a mug for himself. He filled it up with a more generous portion than the one he'd given Angel, smirking with satisfaction as he did so. It wasn't much, but he needed to feel like he was screwing Angel over in at least some small way.

The vampires enjoyed their meal in silence for a few moments.

"But, I am going to tell her soon," Angel said, shattering the quiet.

Spike paused mid-swallow and looked up at his sire.

"I'm going to be telling Buffy that I'm back soon," Angel repeated. "I'm getting better. It's time. Once things are settled with Lagos and the Glove."

Slowly, Spike finished swallowing the blood that was half-way down his throat. He let out a light cough. His hand was wrapped tightly on the handle of the mug, but other than that, he kept up a relaxed visage. "Well, that'd be your call, mate," he replied smoothly. "If you think it's time, then..." He shrugged, casually taking another drink.

"I can't imagine she'll be too pleased with you once she knows you've been lying to her," Angel said.

"Nope," Spike agreed. "Can't imagine that she will. So?"

Angel smirked at Spike's show of calm. "You don't fool me Spike," he told him. "I know you care for Buffy. I know that this weird friendship you have with her means a lot to you. So, what I want to know is, why?"

Spike sighed wearily. "Why what, Peaches?"

"Why are you doing this?" Angel clarified. "Why are you helping me? You know that once Buffy knows I'm back, this... thing, whatever it is between you two, is going to be over."

"Oh, do I now?" Spike countered, his ire starting to show now. "And why do I know that? What the hell makes you so damn certain that you coming back is gonna make her throw me over?"

Angel chuckled acerbically. "Come on, Spike. Even you're not that thick–unless all that bleaching has finally fried your brain."

You mean the bleaching that Buffy does for me? Spike thought, but for whatever reason–he certainly didn't know why–he held back from saying out loud.

"You know the kind of love that Buffy and I have is unbreakable," Angel continued in a softer tone. "We're soul mates."

"So bloody what?" Spike shouted, slamming his mug down on the counter-top and took to pacing. "All right, fine, okay, you win. I know Buffy is never going to feel about me the way she does for you, so what's your bloody point?"

"My point is," Angel said calmly, "Buffy never had to know about me. You could have staked me when I attacked you–no one could have blamed you. But instead you helped me. Why?"

"Because it's what she would have wanted me to do," Spike admitted, his voice almost a whisper. "It's what she did for me," he added, louder. "So you could say that I'm returning the favor. Paying it forward and whatnot."

Angel's brow furrowed at the unfamiliar expression. "Paying it forward?"

"You know," Spike nudged, "from that movie with Helen Hunt and that kid who saw dead people?"

Angel's expression remained blank.

"God you're bloody out of touch, aren't you?" Spike muttered. "You make Giles seem hip." He paused to sigh. "It's a film about a kid that starts this movement-somebody does something nice for you, then you do something nice for someone else and so on. Pay it forward."

Angel turned Spike's explanation over in his mind for a moment. "So Buffy did something for you, so you're doing something for me? Is that right?"

"That's about the long and short of it, yeah."

Angel was naturally inclined not to trust Spike. He still thought there was more to this than just repaying a kindness. But, he also knew how stubborn his childe could be and was too tired to try to force the entire truth out of him. Besides, Angel had already forced Spike to admit the hardest part: that Buffy would never love him the she did Angel. Angel figured that the rest of it he could just let go.

"Is it any good?" Angel asked after a tense few minutes of silence.

"What?" Spike replied, confused.

"The movie."

Spike shrugged. "'S all right," he said. "Kind of a tear jerker. I could rent it some night, if you want."

"Sounds good," Angel said. "Anything has to be better than that show with the whiny blond guy."

"Oi, it's a bit uncalled for, you insultin' what I watch on the telly," Spike shot back. "Do you hear me saying anything about those stuffy old tomes you like to stick your nose in?"

"Yes," Angel answered, not missing a beat. "All the time."

Spike's brow furrowed. "Oh right," he said. "I guess I do a bit." He shrugged. "Well, whatever, if you don't like what's on the television, you don't have to watch."

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. "I don't see why you get to be king of the remote," he groused. "It's my TV in the first place. I bought it."

"No," Spike argued. "You drained the owner of the electronics store and took it."

Angel looked sheepish. "Well, yeah okay. But I am still the one who acquired it–that makes it mine."

"Right, you acquired it," Spike ceded. "Then you died. And me as your only not-quite-so-living relative inherited it. So there."

Angel's lips pressed in an angry line.

Spike rolled his eyes at his sulking sire. "Fine," he said, giving in. "We'll share the telly time–but Wednesdays are definitely mine! I'm not going to miss seeing if Joey chooses Dawson or Pacey because of you. But, any other night is pretty much open. All right?"

"Fine," Angel mumbled in agreement. Then, after a pause asked, "Antiques Roadshow still comes on, right?"

Spike stared at Angel for a moment, his mouth agape. "You've got to be bloody kiddin' me."

TBC...

Faith stood back, leaning against the crypt she and Buffy had just been about to search when they were jumped by a vampire. A vampire Buffy was currently beating into ground hamburger.

Faith wasn't one to normally feel bad for vampires, but the way Buffy was wailing on this little guy made even the street tough Slayer wince in sympathy a few times. Yet still, an approving smirk played at the corners of Faith's mouth while she watched Buffy. It was amusing to see her usually efficient counterpart taking her sweet time and enjoying herself before staking the vamp. And, in Faith's opinion, Buffy was due to blow off some steam. So, Faith figured she'd wait a little bit longer before stepping in.

"Stupid vampire!" Buffy yelled as she repeatedly punched the vampire that she had long since beaten into submission. The vampire had fallen to the ground after Buffy's second punch and she had immediately hopped on top of him to continue her abuse.

"You're all nothing but a bunch of selfish, avoid-y jerks!" Buffy shouted. "Blowing off the people that have cared about you and taken care of you just so you can go and play poker with your stupid demon buddies!"

At this, the vampire looked up at Buffy confusedly and gurgled, "Huh?"

Buffy punched him, yet again, in answer.

"Okay, okay, I think that's enough!" Faith's voice interrupted and Buffy raised her head to the other Slayer in shock. Faith was telling her to stop?

"Excuse me?" Buffy asked.

"Not that I disapprove of your method or anything," Faith said. "I was just thinking, seeing as we've been at this glove hunt for a while now and have come up empty, that we bag it for the night and go find another way for you to get out some of that aggression of yours."

"What aggression?" Buffy said defensively. "I'm not aggravated."

"Coulda fooled me," the vampire murmured.

Buffy glared down at him. She pulled his head up by his hair, then thunked back down on the ground. "Shut up. Nobody asked you." She looked back to Faith. "Like, what did you have in mind?"

Faith smiled. "Well, why don't you stake this sorry SOB and come find out?"

Buffy pursed her lips and scrunched up her face in contemplation. After a moment, she whipped a stake out of her pocket and swiftly shoved it in the vampire's chest, cutting off the protest he didn't have time to get out before exploding into dust. Afterward, Buffy hopped to her feet and brushed away the remnants of the vampire from her clothes.

She sighed and looked to Faith. "Lead the way."

oOo

"Want. Take. Have," Faith relayed her philosophy to Buffy, ticking off each word with her fingers, as the two Slayers sat in the booth of the dive bar where the booze was cheap and they didn't card.

Buffy leaned forward, wrapping her hands around her third glass of beer. "Want. Take. Have," she repeated slowly, taking a contemplative sip. "Okaaay," she slurred. "So, in what way does this have anything to do with Spike avoiding me?"

Faith sighed. "You want him—and don't even try to deny it," she said, cutting Buffy off when she opened her mouth. "And he wants you too."

"He does?" Buffy sounded unsure, but hopeful.

"Like Wily Coyote wants the Roadrunner," Faith replied. "The problem is that neither of you has got the stones to take what you want, and so you're both miserable."

Buffy gave this a second's thought, then shook her head in dismissal. "I don't think so. I mean, Spike has never really been the inhibited type. If he wanted something, he'd take it."

Faith raised one shoulder and let it drop in a lazy shrug. "If you say so. You know the guy better than I do. I'm just sayin' I know men better, and that man wants you bad."

"Then what's stopping him?" Buffy whined.

"I've got a better question, what's stopping you? Shit, B, life's short, especially when you're in our line of work. But for a vampire... I just don't get if a girl wants a guy why she has to wait around for him to make the first move," Faith said. "I mean aren't women supposed to be liberated or some such crap? You want something done, you gotta do it yourself. Bottom line, B." With that chestnut, Faith downed her whiskey and hit the table with a "Whoop!" and stood up. She leaned over to Buffy and murmured, "Watch and learn." She straightened and slithered over to a table full of men, flashing them her most comely smile. She placed her hands flat on their table, bending over and mashing her breasts together, treating the men to a good look at her cleavage. "So," she purred, "which one of you boys is gonna buy a girl another drink?"

As the group of men vied for the chance to purchase Faith's drink, Buffy sat back and pondered the words of her fellow Slayer.

Want. Take. Have.

The more she thought about it, the more it started to make sense.

oOo

Ever since getting his soul, Spike was no stranger to being kept awake by nightmares–he was just used to the nightmares being his own. Spike growled as he pressed the pillow he had held over his head down harder, trying to drown out the sound of Angel in the room across the hall. His sire was talking in his sleep, begging some nameless entity for mercy. Angel's cries sounded like they were right in Spike's ear, despite his effort to muffle them.

Spike remembered how he used to cry out in his sleep at night when he was first cursed and how Buffy would crawl into his bed with him and hold him to calm him down.

Well I'm certainly not doing that for Peaches, he thought. That's where I draw the bloody line.

Seeing as how the pillow wasn't doing him any good anyway, Spike tore it from his face and chucked it across the room. He sighed, heaving himself up from the bed. Since it wasn't likely that he was going to get any rest, Spike figured he might as well go watch some telly, even though at this time of night—or morning, really—the only thing on was crap infomercials—Angelus had been too cheap to have cable installed.

Spike spent half and hour channel surfing, and as he had expected the quality of programming at this time of night was less than engrossing. Letting out a sigh, Spike tossed the remote aside and got to his feet, deciding to go have a late night snack, maybe that would help him get to sleep.

Spike opened the fridge and grabbed out one of the Styrofoam containers filled with blood. He popped off the lid and began to drink straight from the container, not bothering with heating the blood. Spike took the container from his mouth, swallowing with a satisfied ahh, and capped the plastic lid back on the container. He placed the blood back in the fridge and began to rummage about for something solid to munch on when he heard a noise outside that brought his head up. The hackles on the back of his neck rose and a tingling sensation shot down his spine.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. The sweet scent went straight to every pleasure centre in his brain. Spike had to struggle to bring himself down from the high he was feeling. Now, back down on Earth, Spike was able to think clearly and he knew that no matter how good it might feel to have Buffy so close, it was a bad idea for her to be in the mansion right now.

Which meant that he was going to have to think of a way to get rid of her. Again.

"Bullocks," he muttered, slammed shut the refrigerator door. Clenching his jaw tight, Spike stalked out of the kitchen.

oOo

"Want. Take. Have," Buffy repeated the mantra as she made her way clumsily up the walk to the mansion. "Want. Take—oomph!" Her foot caught on a step sending Buffy down on her knees. "Hey, who put that there?" she wondered aloud, frowning down at the step that had tripped her. She groaned as she pulled herself up on shaky legs. She brushed herself off and continued undeterred toward the entrance of the mansion.

"Want. Take. Have."

"Hello!" Buffy called out into the dark cavernous foyer as she stumbled inside. "Spike? Are you here? Heelllooo!"

"Buffy, what're you doing here?" came Spike's voice from behind her.

Buffy whirled around a bit too quickly. "Oh–whoa." She put one hand out as if to balance herself and the other to her spinning head. "There you are," she said, squinting at the blurry vampire. "Hey, hold still, would ya?"

Spike narrowed his eyes at the dizzy Slayer. Now that he was closer to her, he could pick up the scent of whiskey that surrounded her; she smelled like a distillery. "Are you pissed, pet?" he asked, though he very well knew the answer. His lips curved up in the hint of a smirk despite himself.

"Oh, I'm pissed all right," Buffy replied, staggering forward. "You bet your lilly-white ass I'm pissed. Pissed at you, pal," she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Spike.

Spike felt a rush of panic go through him, wondering if Buffy had somehow found out about him hiding Angel from her.

The vampire nervously licked his lips. "Pissed at me? Why's that then?"

Buffy let out a huff. "Why do you think? Because of how you keep brushing me off and the general avoid-yness. What's up with that? And don't give me that rap about needing your own life–I'm not buying it. I know that there is something up with you and I want to know what it is. So you better tell me." She walked up to Spike and rammed her finger into his chest, then, only just noticing that it was bare, Buffy laid her hand flat on Spike's chest and pet it. "Ooh, smooth," she commented dreamily. "Hey, how come you don't have any chest hair? Angel didn't either. Is it a vampire thing? Like does it just all fall off when you get bit or something?"

Spike could barely concentrate on the nonsense the inebriated Slayer was spouting. His head was reeling too much from the sensation going through him from the touch of her hot palm lying against his cold flesh. Spike was gulping in shallow breaths of air, fighting to gain some composure. But Buffy was so close and the smell of whiskey was so strong he could almost taste it. He was getting drunk on it. He must be, because he was starting to feel a bit light-headed himself.

"Uh...pet," he said, his voice coming out strained and reedy. He really couldn't think when she was so close, when she was touching him. Spike lifted his hand and put it over Buffy's, meaning to pull hers away, but when Buffy raised her head and met his eyes, Spike found himself unable to move. She looked at him with such hunger in her eyes.

"You know, Faith–you might not think it to look at her, but she's pretty smart," Buffy said, breath heavy as her finger gently traced the defined slope of Spike's left pectoral.

"She gave me some good advice tonight. She told me if I wanted things to change then I should take matters into my own hands." She slowly slid her hand up and wrapped her arm around Spike's neck.

"What're you doing, love?" Spike asked.

"Want," Buffy murmured, stepping even closer to him, pressing herself into him."Take," she wrapped her other arm around him and raised herself up on her tiptoes, tilting her head up towards Spike. "Have," she said, completing the mantra and pulling Spike down to her, bringing his lips crashing down roughly on hers.

Buffy's mouth was hot on Spike's; the kiss sent fire coursing through his entire being. It had been such a long time since the vampire had felt so warm, and when his arms naturally encircled Buffy's waist and pulled her body flush against his, Spike thought he might burst into flames right there.

Spike had been wanting this for such a long time now, wanting Buffy. For so long he couldn't rightly remember a time when he hadn't wanted her. But no matter how much he had imagined kissing her, holding her, no matter how many times he had dreamed of this moment, nothing could compare to the reality. It was beyond perfect. There were no words in Spike's poet heart that could justly describe the sensation he was feeling at that moment.

It was everything he had ever hoped for and more.

Except for one thing.

It took every last ounce of strength that the vampire possessed, but he pulled his lips away from Buffy's. Both of them were left panting from the exertion of the kiss.

"W-what?" Buffy asked once she had managed to catch a little breath. "What's wrong?"

"This isn't right," Spike told her.

"It sure felt right to me," Buffy argued.

"Yeah, and you're drunk, pet. I'm sure you'll be feeling something quite differently in the morning. I can't take advantage of you, not like this. Not when you're not in a fit state to know what you want."

"But I do know what I want!" Buffy exclaimed. "I've wanted this for a long time now, and I'm just finally having the courage to admit it and do something about it." Buffy put her hand on Spike's cheek, her thumb grazing along the sharp edge of his cheekbone. "I want you, Spike," she said. "And I thought that you wanted me too."

"Oh god, you have no idea how much," Spike said, groaning.

"Then what's the problem?"

Spike thought about it. Okay, so maybe there was more than Buffy's being drunk that made this a less than perfect moment. One of those imperfections being down the hall.

"Oh," Buffy blurted suddenly. "Oh I get it. Of course, I know why you would be wiggy. Stupid Buffy," she cursed herself. "Because you don't know, 'cause I didn't tell you. And I'm really sorry I didn't—I should have. I was going to, but I was just afraid of what might happen. Or... I'm not really sure anymore why I didn't tell you as soon as Willow told me. I'm just so sorry. And I'm telling you now that, it's okay, everything is okay and you don't have to worry about it. Okay?"

Spike was so lost, he didn't even know where to start asking Buffy what the hell she was on about. He never got the chance to anyway, as Buffy was once again pulling him into a blistering kiss.

As Spike's lips met Buffy's every other thought flew out of his mind. It had taken everything in the vampire to pull away from her the first time and he didn't think he could do it again. He wrapped his arms tightly about Buffy, never wanting to let her go. And he likely wouldn't have, had it not been for the body slamming into him and knocking him onto the floor.

oOo

Angel couldn't sleep. It had been a long time since he had had the option of sleep. He thought maybe he had forgotten how. He laid down on his bed–well a bed–put his head on the pillow and shut his eyes, and therein was the problem. The horrible things he would see behind his lids took him right back to the hell he had escaped.

But as frightening as those memories were, they were nothing compared to the ones of the time not long ago when Angelus had been back in control. The things the demon in him had done. The pain he had caused to the few people Angel had been able to call friends. The things he had done to Buffy.

But the worst thing of all Angel saw when he closed his eyes was Buffy on the day she had killed him.

A sudden pain, hot and sharp, lanced through Angel's body, he felt like he was being ripped apart and stitched back together again. Once this coalescence had completed and he was again in one piece, whole, he was left dazed and confused, wondering where this missing part of him had been hiding all this time, and what had happened in its absence.

And then he saw her face and nothing else mattered because she was there, right in front of him. Angel wanted to reach out to her, to touch her, hold her, kiss her. As lost as he had felt without having his soul intact, not having Buffy with him had been the thing that really kept him from being complete. Without her, his soul meant nothing, because she was his soul mate.

Then, almost as suddenly as the joy of seeing his beloved had flooded him, it was cut away, as another stinging pain overwhelmed him. This time however, the pain wasn't all consuming, but localized to a specific part of his body.

Angel looked down at the sword that had been plunged into his stomach. He didn't understand. His eyes travelled up the blade to the hands gripping onto the hilt of the weapon. His lover's hands.

Disbelief welled inside Angel, accompanied with hurt and pain and betrayal, along with a myriad of other emotions. Most of all though, he was confused. He looked up into the eyes of the girl he loved and uttered the last word he would say for a very long time.

"Buffy?"

Angel shot up in the bed, his eyes popping open. His chest heaved with the unnecessary gulps of air he was taking. Drops of perspiration beaded on his forehead. Angel rubbed his hands roughly over his face, trying to erase the feelings the dream always left inside him. When he was awake he understood why Buffy had done what she had, that she'd didn't have a choice. But he hadn't known it at the time and he couldn't help the remnants of resentment that reliving the event brought back.

Angel loved Buffy and it wasn't fair of him to carry around any bitterness towards her, even in his dreams.

The vampire tossed the sheets that were now damp with his sweat off his body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He got to his feet with the intention of going to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, but the sound of voices coming from the foyer changed his course.

The cadence of Buffy's voice pulled him down the hall like a siren luring seamen to their doom. It washed away any of the ill thoughts the dream had brought on and filled Angel with nothing but love and longing. He wanted to go to her now and reveal himself and hold her in his arms once again, but he couldn't. Because when he got to the mouth of the hall and saw Buffy, she was already wrapped up in someone else's embrace.

Angel's blood boiled as he looked on at Spike holding Buffy, kissing her. The sight shattered any illusion Spike might have wanted to present that he was helping Angel out of kindness. As Angel had suspected from the beginning Spike had ulterior motives for keeping Angel's resurrection from Buffy. Spike wanted her all to himself. It was hardly a surprise to Angel that his childe would deceive him in such a way, and he had known that Spike had feeling for Buffy. What was shocking was the idea that Buffy could ever reciprocate any sort of affection for Spike.

It was incomprehensible to Angel. The idea of it so ludicrous, that despite what his eyes were telling him, he still couldn't believe it. Buffy would never be kissing Spike willingly.

Propelled by an intense rage, Angel sprang forward and tackled Spike away from Buffy.

"Keep your hands off her, you bastard!" Angel yelled, seething and almost blind with fury as he rained punches down on his childe's face.

Buffy stumbled back, taken off guard by the sudden attack, but as she regained some of her wits, anger bubbled up inside her. She clenched her fist and wheeled around, ready to put the hurt on whatever beastie it was that had interrupted her moment with Spike.

"Hey!" she shouted at the figure on top of Spike. Her vision blurred a bit as she lurched his way and grabbed him by what she guessed was a shoulder. "Get off of him!"

The attacker shrugged Buffy's hand away, and if she wasn't in the state she was in it wouldn't have made much of an impact, but as she was already shaky on her feet, even the slight shove sent her back on her ass.

At hearing Buffy's small yelp as she hit the ground, Angel was pulled out of his rage and stopped hitting Spike so he could turn and make sure the Slayer was all right.

"Oh god, Buffy," Angel murmured, feeling guilty for his mistake. He rushed over and knelt down beside her, reaching out his hand to her.

Buffy instantly swatted his hand away. "Don't you touch me, you stupid– " The insult died on Buffy's tongue as her vision began to focus and she recognised the pair of soft brown eyes that were looking at her, full of concern. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Slowly Buffy reopened her eyes. She couldn't believe it. How could this be happening? Her head swam, the alcohol in her stomach churning a storm, she felt dizzy and her breathing was shallow.

Buffy licked her lips—she could taste a trace of tobacco left behind by Spike's kiss—and swallowed down the bile crawling up her throat. After a moment, she finally recovered from the shock enough to speak, but barely. Her voice was no more than a whisper when she said, "Angel?"

TBC...

Buffy blinked up at the figure standing before her. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This had to be some kind of hallucination. But, looking up into those deep brown eyes it was undeniable. It was Angel. He was real and he was back.

 

How could this be happening?

 

Buffy’s mind whirled. This wasn’t possible. Or at least it wouldn’t be anywhere other than the Hellmouth. Here impossibility was the norm. Buffy didn’t even know why she questioned such things anymore, and should she even be questioning this miracle?

 

Angel was back! Her one true love, her soul mate. Shouldn’t she just be happy that this was happening?

 

But, she couldn’t be happy. All Buffy could do was wonder why.

 

Why did Angel come back now after all this time? Now when Buffy was just starting to let go of the pain and guilt she had felt over having to kill him. When she was finally ready to allow herself to go after what she wanted. Who she wanted.

 

Spike.

 

Buffy’s lips were still tingling from the kiss they had shared only a moment ago. She could still feel how cool and soft Spike’s lips had been. The taste of his tongue and the smooth velvety texture of it as it danced sensuously with hers.

 

The thought entered Buffy’s mind that Angel’s returning was somehow payback for the betrayal of that kiss. As though the treachery of that act was so powerful it had brought on this manifestation of Buffy’s dead lover to punish her for being with someone else.

 

This had to be some sort of sick joke fate was playing on her.

 

Suddenly Buffy noticed a sharp pain in her chest and a tight feeling in her lungs. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken a breath. She knew she needed air, but at the moment she couldn’t quite remember how to breathe. The situation was becoming more imperative as Buffy began to get lightheaded. If she didn’t breathe soon she was going to faint.

 

Still, all she could do was stare dumbly up at Angel, her mouth hanging open and a glossy, dazed look in her eyes.

 

Angel was beginning to get worried about the unresponsive Slayer. She looked like she was slipping into a state of catatonia. “Buffy?” he questioned, concern filling his voice.

 

The sound of Angel’s voice was like the snap of a hypnotist fingers, bringing Buffy out of her trance. She blinked and automatically sucked in a rush of air into her aching lungs. She closed her eyes for a second and concentrated on levelling out her breaths.

 

Some of the tension ran out of Angel’s shoulders as Buffy began to make signs of life.  “Are you all right?”

                                                           

Buffy opened her eyes and looked at Angel again. She swallowed in an attempt to bring relief to her dry throat and licked her lips.

 

“I’m...” she began, her voice low and stunned. “I-I don’t, I don’t understand.”

 

The furrow between Angel’s brows deepened, a look of regret passing in his eyes. “I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. This isn’t how I meant for you to find out. I wanted to wait for the right time. I wanted it to be perfect.”

 

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut again and gave her head a shake. “Huh?” she asked. Angel was talking as though he had been around for a while. Well, at least that would mean she wasn’t responsible. “H-how long have you...?” Shock and confusion was making it difficult for Buffy to form full sentences.

 

“I’ve been back for a few weeks,” Angel confessed.

 

“Weeks?” Buffy breathed, her voice holding utter disbelief. Angel had been back for weeks and he didn’t tell her? “Why?” 

 

“I wanted it to be right,” Angel said again. “I didn’t want you to see me...like I was. When I first came back, I was in bad shape. I’m getting better now, but I didn’t want to put anymore on your plate, not while you’re dealing with Kakistos.”

 

Kakistos? How could he know about...?

 

For the first time since laying eyes on him, Buffy looked away from Angel and sought out the other vampire in the room. Spike was on the ground, propped up against the wall next to the fireplace. There was a bruise forming on his left cheek and a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.

 

“Spike?” Buffy asked, a million questions in that single word. Spike didn’t answer her. He just closed his eyes and looked away. Ashamed. Buffy didn’t need for him to speak, Spike wore his emotions clear on his face. He knew. He’d known the whole time. The realisation left Buffy breathless again. Like she had been punched in the gut. “Oh god,” she murmured. Buffy felt sick all of a sudden and doubled over, clutching her stomach.

 

All of the pain and confusion she had been feeling since seeing Angel was nothing compared to what Buffy felt now knowing that Spike had been keeping something like this from her. For weeks.

 

How could he? After everything they had been through since he had regained his soul Spike was the last person Buffy would have believed would keep secrets from her. As strange as it might seem, Buffy had trusted Spike almost more than she had ever trusted anyone, and he lied to her.

 

Stomach acid bubbled up and burned Buffy’s throat as tears welled in her eyes. She clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back the bile. A muffled sob escaped through the barrier.

 

Concern had Spike on his feet and standing before Buffy in an instant. “Pet, are you all right?”

 

“Buffy?” Angel asked, equally worried.

 

Buffy couldn’t hear them. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her blood rushing in her ears like rapids. Her stomach lurched violently and no matter how hard she tried, Buffy didn’t think she was going to be able to keep it down for long. The Slayer sprung to her feet and without sparing either vampire a glance, she sprinted for the bathroom.

 

Spike and Angel watched in worry as Buffy ran from the room. They both winced a moment later when the sound of her retching drifted down the hall, followed by the putrid scent of stomach acid.

 

“Well, that must have been some kiss, huh,” Angel commented in an attempt to distract himself from the sick sounds Buffy was making as well as get at Spike.

 

Spike flicked a glance at his sire, his top lip curled in disgust. “Get bent, peaches,” he muttered, and turned back to look down the dark hall, worried about Buffy.

 

“I’m just saying,” Angel needled. “You kiss her and she runs for the nearest toilet. She told me once that when I kissed her she wanted to die. So...”

 

Spike snorted. “Makes perfect sense to me. If I had to suffer having your sloppy tongue shoved down my throat, I’d feel like offing m’self too.”

 

Angel’s jaw tensed, a low growl escaping from his chest. Spike rolled his eyes at the other vampire’s attempt at intimidation.

 

“Oh, come off it,” Spike said. “And for the record, it wasn’t kissing me that made Buffy sickly. In fact, she was rather enjoyin’ herself until you showed up. In my opinion, it was seeing your big, stupid face that done her in.”

 

Angel’s nostrils flared as his fingers curled into fist. His eyes darkened and narrowed at Spike. Spike could feel the anger rolling off of Angel in waves and it helped to fuel his own.

 

Sucking in his cheeks, Spike turned to fully face his sire. “What’s the matter, gramps?” he asked. “Can’t handle the truth? That’s right, Buffy loved it when I kissed her. Hold on a tick, actually, it was Buffy that kissed me. Yeah, her engine was purrin’ good for ol’ Spike. She wanted me. She wanted me bad.”  Somewhere deep inside himself, Spike felt a twinge of guilt for speaking about Buffy this way. But the temptation to goad that self righteous bastard Angel was just too great. “Had it not been for you breakin’ up the party she likely woulda had me on the floor in another couple of seconds.”

 

Angel seethed, grinding his teeth together. “You were taking advantage of her, you low-life son of a bitch! She’s drunk. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

 

Spike felt a pang, briefly wondering if his sire’s words might hold some truth, but he didn’t show his doubt. Instead, he smiled lasciviously, cockily and leaned in toward Angel. “Sure felt like she knew what she was doin’ to me,” he whispered, more than a hint of suggestion in his voice. “The way her hands moved over my body and how she rolled her tongue—”

 

Angel lunged forward and grabbed Spike by the neck, cutting him off. “Shut your mouth!”

 

Instead of cowering, Spike just chuckled. “Yeah, all right. Let’s do it then. Let’s see how tough you are when you ain’t got the advantage of sneaking up on me.”

 

Angel sneered. “Trust me, Spike, when it comes to fighting you, an advantage is hardly necessary.”

 

The humour evaporated from Spike’s expression and his eyes turned cold. “Well, why don’t we just test that theory, shall we?”

 

The corner of Angel’s mouth quirked slightly. “Gladly.”

 

Both vampires had gotten so wrapped up in their fight that neither of them saw Buffy approaching. Still feeling lightheaded from being sick, Buffy put her hand against the wall to steady her as the world spun around her. When it stopped, Buffy was stunned by the scene that came into focus. Spike and Angel were rolling around on the floor wrestling. Despite being more than a bit angry at both of them, Buffy couldn’t deny that the image of the two shirtless vampires engaged in the throws of battle was somewhat titillating.

 

No! Buffy chastised herself for such a thought. Now was not the time for things like this. Their behaviour was unacceptable—and not at all sexy!

 

“Ahem!”                   

 

Spike and Angel immediately froze at the sound. They turned their heads and looked at Buffy, then, like two children that had been caught doing something bad, they broke away from each other with identical looks of shame on their faces.

 

Rising to their feet, Spike and Angel both moved toward Buffy. The Slayer held up her hand before they got too close.

 

“Are you all right?” Angel was the first to ask.

 

“Is there anything you need, pet?” Spike added. “Some water or something?”

 

“Anything,” Angel put in. “Whatever you need I can get it for you.”

 

Spike fought the urge to scoff at the emphasis Angel put on ‘I’. As long as Buffy got what she needed it didn’t matter who got it for her—well, all right, Spike would rather it be him.

 

Buffy cleared her throat and licked her lips. She grimaced at the foul taste in her mouth. “Actually,” she began. “I do need something.”

 

“Name it,” Spike said. “Whatever it is.”

 

“I need,” Buffy paused to take a breath. “I need Giles.”

 

The vampires responded with silence; this hadn’t been what they expected her to say.

 

“Giles?” Spike clarified after a moment.

 

“Giles?” Angel echoed, regret and dread tinging his voice. Thinking about the Watcher was still difficult for him. The idea of facing Giles was unpleasant to say the least. What do you say to a man you physically and mentally tortured for hours on end?

 

“Yes,” Buffy affirmed. “Giles. We need answers and Giles is the Answer Man. If there is anyone who might have a clue about what is going on, about how this,” she gestured vaguely in Angel’s direction, “happened. It’s Giles. So...”

 

Spike cleared his throat in the pause that followed Buffy’s proclamation and was again the first to respond. “Right, then,” he said. “Just let me throw a shirt on and we can go.”

 

Buffy’s eyebrows shot up. “We? There’s no we. You’re not coming. I can talk to Giles by myself.”

 

“I’m sure you can,” Spike replied. “But getting to him in one piece is another story. You’re drunk, Slayer. Look at you, you can barely stand on your own feet.”

 

Buffy looked at the wall she was still leaning against and immediately jerked her hand away. She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need you.”

 

The coldness in Buffy’s tone when she said those words was more painful than a stake in the chest. Spike gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to argue about this, Buffy.”

 

Buffy perked visibly and said, “Great! Then I’ll just be on my way.” She made to leave and Spike blocked her path.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Spike said.

 

Buffy’s lips pressed into a hard line, her eyes flashing with rage. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” she warned.

 

“Can’t do that,” Spike told her. “You’re in no condition to go out there on your own. I can’t let you.”

 

“Let me?” Buffy repeated her voice denoting her incredulity. “If you don’t move your ass right now, I’m gonna show you just what kind of condition I’m in.”  Spike remained unswayed by the threat. Buffy wavered slightly, but steeled herself. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” She balled her fist, ready to punch Spike in the face, but Angel’s voice stopped her.

 

“Spike’s right.” Buffy and Spike both snapped their heads in Angel’s direction, looking at him with matching expressions of disbelief.

 

“He is?”

 

“I am?”

 

They said at the same time.

 

Angel sighed. As much as he would have loved to see Buffy kick Spike’s ass, he wasn’t willing to risk her safety. “You have been drinking, Buffy. You reek of alcohol. Any vampire could smell it from yards off. They’ll know that you’re vulnerable and take advantage. It’s what they do.” Angel glared at Spike as he said the last part. “You should have back up. Just in case. So, if you’re not going to let Spike go with then...” Angel paused, closing his eyes and taking in some air, steeling himself. “Then, I’ll go with you.”

 

Buffy eyes widened. She understood fully why Angel was apprehensive to volunteer to go with her to see Giles. The badness of that idea was clear. Buffy could only imagine what it would do to Giles to have Angel sprung on him out of the blue. She needed to prepare him first. Like she wished someone had done for her.

 

Buffy took a breath and let it out on a sigh. “Fine,” she relented. She turned in Spike’s direction, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Hurry and get dressed. I’ll call Giles and let him know we’re coming.”  Buffy did an about face and headed toward the kitchen where the phone was kept.

 

Spike and Angel watched after her, and once Buffy’s form disappeared from view, Angel turned to Spike.

 

“You better not let anything happen to her,” Angel warned.

 

Spike didn’t say anything. He just shot Angel a look full of contempt then walked away.

                                                                       

                                                                        oOo

 

 

The silence between Spike and Buffy was so heavy it was a wonder they weren’t crushed by its force.  The tension was thick enough that it became like a physical barrier separating the pair. Perhaps that was the reason for the distance between them as they made their way to meet Giles; Spike was on one side of the street and Buffy the other.

 

Buffy’s eyes never strayed from the road ahead of her. While Spike kept throwing her desperate glances, trying to will her to look back at him. This was unbearable. Sure, the two of them had had plenty of quiet walks in the past, but that was always a companionable silence. But, this...

 

This was bloody torture. Spike should know, after all, he was an expert on the subject.

 

Not being able to stand it any longer, Spike stopped dead in his tracks. “We have to talk,” he called to Buffy’s back as she kept walking.

 

“No. We don’t,” she replied, sternly.

 

“Buffy!” Spike cried, a note of frustration in his voice. “This ain’t fair. You have to let me explain.”

 

Abruptly, Buffy stopped and spun around to face Spike. “You wanna explain?” she yelled, seething as she stormed toward him. “Fine. Explain. Tell me how you can justify keeping something this huge from me. After everything we’ve been through. After how much you knew it was killing me trying to live with what I did to Angel.”

 

“That’s exactly it!” Spike said, his voice rising to meet Buffy’s. “It’s because I knew how much pain you were in that I couldn’t tell you. You were just startin’ to forgive yourself. Finally letting yourself move on. To have a life. No way was I goin’ to muck that up.”

 

“And just how the hell would knowing that Angel was back and okay muck anything up?” Buffy demanded.

 

“Because he wasn’t okay. At least not at first. He was in Hell Buffy. Things happened to him. He was damaged. You seein’ him like that would have shattered the pieces of your spirit you were just beginning to put back together,” Spike explained. “You’ve been through enough. I just thought waiting until Angel got himself back together a bit before you found out was what would be best.”

 

Buffy was quiet. Her expression was hard. The only sign of emotion was the slight gleam of tears in her eyes visible from the moonlight. Buffy took in a deep breath through her nose and swallowed down the lump that had formed in her throat. “And just what the hell gave you the right?” she asked, her voice low and fierce.

 

Spike blinked. “What?”

 

Buffy cleared her throat and turned her head to look Spike fully in the eyes. “You have no right to decide what is best for me!” she yelled. “I’m the Slayer. Which means that everything supernatural that goes on in Sunnydale is my business. It’s my job, my calling, to fight the forces of evil. No one has the authority to decide what I should or shouldn’t know. Especially not you.” With that Buffy spun around and continued down the street.

 

The sound of Buffy’s heels clacking sharply on the pavement echoed in Spike’s ears as she walked away from him. Tears stung in his eyes and his throat closed. He hadn’t really expected this to go any better than it had. But no matter how much he tried to ready himself for the inevitable confrontation, nothing could have prepared him for the look of hatred he had seen in Buffy’s eyes. She had never looked at him like that, not even when he was trying to kill her. Not even when he tried to kill Angel.

 

It broke Spike’s heart, that look. But his own heart didn’t mean half as much to Spike as Buffy’s did. He was afraid hers was broken as well, and it was all his fault.

 

 

TBC...